#i think when they have their time sense it's sort of like. a stripped screw?

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

watching space station videos for fic research and this astronaut is explaining how they sleep and that they dont really lie down because it always feels like shes still standing up anyway. she says "i dont have any sensation in my head that tells me im upside down so it doesnt matter"

i think thats what time sense is like. this thing in your brain that makes you able to orient yourself like in relation to, like, gravity? humans float in time like astronauts float in the space station. theyve got nothing in their brain telling them whats up and down.

and i dont know physics but like gravity distorts time along with space right? thats what they told me in world enough and time right? magic space hole, dont call the lift, cybermen problem

anyway i think thats what it's like. just like feeling gravitys effects on time? and then when it disappears or gets broken, which i hc happens with the master a bit after the timelords take away the drums and then relatively soon after that they regenerate very close to a black hole TWICE. TWICE AT ONCE. i think those things together mustve really fucked with their time sense i dont think the master can orient themself very well anymore, cant tell whats up and down anymore, just always floating

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 9.7k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, talking about traumas, self-esteem issues, fluff of some sort, self doubt.

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You see someone in a coffee shop, and you make the first move towards a new life.

A/N: I didn't think so many of you would enjoy this story! I hope everything lives up to your expectations, we're gonna go slow with this one, but don't think that Billy and Steve won't participate in this project of yours ;)

As always, all reblogs help, tagging it as well, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

PART 2

Your eyes slowly opened, feeling completely light headed as you tried to focus all around you.

You groaned in pain as you felt a sharp sting in the back of your head and you felt the light above you blinding you, sharply. 

Where the fuck were you?

“Is she awake?” You heard a female voice talking. You tried focusing again and saw Kali’s face over yours and she smiled at you when she saw you open your eyes at her.

“She’s awake!” Kali says and you see more faces trying to come in focus over you, making you whine by how dizzy that made you. You heard Kali protesting to the other people to give you some space as she fanned your face with her hand. 

“W-Where am I?” You asked and slowly but surely, your senses started sharpening again. Below you, there was definitely a bed. Then, all the voices around you were female. And then, you smelt cinnamon, the same one as your scented candle in your room.

“Your apartment. Are you okay? Do you feel sick?” You heard Nancy ask worriedly as she held a bottle of water in her hand. Honestly, you didn’t feel sick, just plain dizzy, as if you had ran out of oxygen for a few minutes. You held onto Kali’s arm and slowly sat up, centering yourself in the room as it began to get in focus for your eyes. 

“Jesus, what happened?” You asked as you grabbed onto Nancy’s bottle and Robin looked at Nancy worriedly and then back at you.

“You fainted.” 

“That much I know Robs.”

“In front of the stripper.” You spat the sip of water you just took, dizziness completely gone now, embarrassment and shame taking over your body as an anxious knot filled in the center of your gut. Barb stepped away from in front of you just in time before she got drenched and you started coughing wildly as Vickie patted your back.

“Oh god, now I am gonna be sick.” You say as nausea fills your stomach thanks to how humiliated you felt. You just remembered his brown eyes, looking at you, getting closer and closer to you. You winced as you tried to imagine his face when you simply blacked out in front of him. How pathetic it must have been for him. 

“Yeah, you’ve been out for thirty minutes.” You groaned loudly at Barb’s words and you looked at Nancy. You were so embarrassed for ruining her night, and even making all of them go through all of this. 

“Nance, I am so sorry. Words can’t describe how stupid I feel for this… I should have waited in the car, or in the bathroom, or away from the stage…” You hid your face in your hands as tears started to fill in your eyes. You felt so weak, so small because of this issue of yours. You made your friends end their fun night because of you.

“No, no! I shouldn’t have even considered a strip club knowing one of my bridesmaids doesn’t do good in a place like that!” Nancy replies, trying to make you realize she didn’t mind, but you were too far gone to notice that. How many more nights will you screw up in this way?

You remembered your prom night. Because of your shyness, you were always the target for bullying, and boys didn’t help at all with your case. They pulled your hair, got close to your face to tease you, grabbed your shoulders, caged you against the wall just to see you squeal in fear. 

So that night, you decided to try and be brave, only to be cornered inside the boy’s bathroom by three guys from the soccer team. They were telling you they could cure you if you’d only suck their dicks. That was all you needed. Thankfully, Kali smashed into the bathroom with a fire extinguisher and sprayed the men on the spot. She had seen you being pulled aside, and in your shock, you didn’t pull away, nor ran. 

That was a dangerous situation, but this one… This one was plainly humiliating. Embarrassing. Pathetic. 

The poor guy was just doing his job, and he had to see you crumble in front of him, just by his mere sight and touch. He was supposed to make you feel desired, and you cannot even imagine how he felt when you just fainted on him. Eddie. Poor Eddie.

“Hey, if he didn’t catch you in time, you would have hit your neck on the back of your chair.” You looked up to see Robin speaking to you.

“He helped me?”

“He even carried you to my car. Told me to drive safe and all.” Robin didn’t tell you, just to spare you from more embarrassment, but she explained your condition to Eddie and Joyce who were feeling responsible for what happened to you. The guy looked confused really, but didn’t press more than that and just waved all of you off. 

You were looking at Robin and then you looked at your arms. He had wrapped his arms around you, and lifted you in bridal style to carry you away. You sighed as you cursed at yourself for only being able to tolerate something like that when you were completely out and not conscious at all. 

You wanted to feel hands like that awake. You wanted to be able to enjoy a handsome man pampering you. You wanted to kiss a hot guy. You wanted and needed to be fucked with someone you felt attracted to, completely, not just barely. 

“Oh, sweetheart don’t cry… It really isn’t a big deal…” Kali wiped your tear away, one you didn’t even feel dropping, but she didn’t understand. It is a big deal. No one understands you, no one knows what this feels like. No one knows how you feel about this. No one gets it. 

You just wished you could be normal.

It’s been a week since that night, and you tried. You were seriously trying. 

But you were now in your fourth coffee shop, parking your car, because the last three you’ve been at, the baristas, were young men. As soon as you entered the doors and saw the counter and the man behind it, you immediately left. 

After that night, it seemed as if your shyness and your nervousness only worsened just by how humiliating those events were. You couldn’t even turn on your camera at the team meetings of your workplace, which thankfully, it was 100% from home. You worked at a big company just as an administrator, and it paid well so you didn’t complain.

Now, on a friday, you look forward to the afternoon coffee, and you were happy to see that in your fourth coffee place, you found a woman at the front counter. You walked towards her as you looked into your wallet, looking for cash.

“Hi! What can I get you?” You heard her cheery voice and you looked up with a smile.

“Hello, um… Just a medium coffee with a bit of creamer please.” She nodded at you and you handed her the money so she could go and start preparing you coffee. She asked for your name and told you she would call you once it was done. You nodded at that and stepped aside, grabbing your phone to scroll through your instagram. 

You smiled when seeing the stories of Robin. She was posting about how boring her classes were at nursing school. Then you jumped over to Nancy’s which was a picture of her and Jonathan. Your smile faltered a little at that.

Jonathan was a handsome guy, and when you met him you didn’t feel that immense shyness you always felt. You never knew why, because deep inside you, you knew he was attractive. Yet, you could shake hands with him, and engage in conversation as if it were a natural thing for you to do. 

A deep voice came from next to you, and your eyes widened. You knew that voice. You recognized it, because last time it vibrated so close to your ear, it had settled in the deep of your stomach. You slowly side eyed, turning your head just a bit and you held in the gasp as you felt your body grow a cold sweat. 

“The usual, Princess.”

Oh fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch. 

You could see his hair tied up in a bun, some specks of unshaved beard covered his jaw, and the smell. You could smell the wooden cologne. Kind of leathery like. You turned your head as you felt your whole face turn a deep shade of red, and it almost felt like it moved all over your body. 

Your fingertips felt like they were sweating, and the knot in your stomach was moving all around. She took his order and you stepped aside trying to create some space between you two. You looked away so he wouldn’t recognize your face, because if he did, you were sure you would die. 

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and you were looking at the barista’s every move. She was preparing your coffee now, and his presence was just overwhelming you entirely. You wanted, no, NEEDED, to bolt right out of there. You could hear him yawn as he stood next to you, and your nerves were going insane right now. You heard your name being called out, snapping you out of your almost panic attack. 

“Thank you…” You said almost in a whisper as you took the coffee in your hands. You didn’t waste a single second, turning away and rushing out of the shop, taking a deep breath in of the clear oxygen. Now, you don’t really think it would be adequate to fill your body with caffeine when your nerves were this bad, but you already paid for it. 

Your heart was on the verge of exploding as you took many deep breaths in. You should apologize to him, or say thank you for helping your friends carry you out of the club, but here you were, running once again. Like you always did. 

But is it something you really want to do? Do you want to keep running?

You turned around and saw him through the window, taking slow sips of his coffee as he looked through his phone. His profile was already making you sweat by just how good looking he was, without even trying, with the afternoon sun hitting him in the right places. 

You wanted a normal life. You wanted to be able to feel attraction. You wanted to be kissed passionately. You wanted physical touch. You wanted to be normal, simply normal. 

So your feet moved. They guided you towards the doors again. They guided you into the shop. The girl looked at you with confusion over the counter and then you turned, going towards the booth where the man was seated at.

Eddie though, didn’t even acknowledge you. He was tired, too spent from last night's show. He was grabbed onto more than usual, and he had done several personal lap dances. Everything was good money of course, and he knew he sealed his fate into being the favorite one the moment he agreed on being physical with clients. No more than a kiss, or some holding, but that made him wanted. 

He didn’t mind really, but when the ladies would take advantage of that and touch him, when they knew they shouldn’t, drove him up a wall. He wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t bang one or two clients per week, sometimes for money, sometimes for his pleasure. This was all his doing. Joyce was against them doing that, but his colleagues, and himself, found out that their dicks can get them two thousand a night.

He didn’t even notice until a shadow casted over him, that made him look up, that you had sat right in front of him, making him frown in confusion because… You weren’t looking at him. You were looking downwards and he could almost see the steam coming out of one of your ears.

“Um–”

“I’M SORRY.” He jumped at the high pitched loud tone, almost a squeak, making him shake his coffee a little bit on his hand. 

“Jesus christ!” It was too late for loud noises, and much more for apologies he didn’t have a clue on why they were being said to him. And from a girl who wasn’t even looking at him. You were trembling, looking at your lap, because that apology came out way too embarrassing for your own good, and now you wanted nothing more but to crawl and disappear into thin air.

You stayed silent, trying to form words in your throat, but you could only feel the lump forming, and you cursed at yourself internally because you thought you were making progress by sitting in front of him, but now that you made a fool out of yourself, once again, you wanted to run away. But his voice stopped you.

“Holy shit, it’s you. The girl who fainted.”

Your blood went cold. Of course you would be remembered as that. Shit, everyone that night will remember you as the pathetic girl who fainted in the arms of a stripper. Your knuckles went white on your lap as you gripped them tightly, trying to fight the urge of running away. Your voice was still not found but there was no need because he kept talking.

“Are you alright? After that night?” He was asking for your wellbeing. This guy who didn’t even know you was asking if you were doing okay. You had to answer, you had to say something. Anything, just move your lips, make the air come out.

“Yes…” You almost mumbled it, but it was something. Eddie was squinting at you, his phone long forgotten on the table as he inspected you. He gave a small smirk, even if you weren’t looking at him, he just couldn’t help himself.

“And I thought your friend made up a horrible excuse for you that night, saying you were shy against men. I can see that she wasn’t lying.” Your body jerked up at that, your eyes widening and your head lifting up slightly, focused on his cup and he was finally able to see your face. You were beet red, making him smirk even more.

“Y-You were doing a great job! It’s m-my fault for trying to be strong and staying there!” Did you just say he was doing a great job? That formally? To a stripper? You winced at your words, ready to stand up and walk away but the sound of his laughter stopped you, and you wanted to look up, but you knew that it was going to make you freeze in place. 

“Thank you darling. I guess I appreciate the feedback.” He noticed how you jumped slightly at the nickname he gave you and he cleared his throat. “I guess I do, in fact, owe you an apology myself…”

At that, your eyebrow raised up, not looking at him, but staring at his phone this time, just trying to not meet his gaze at all. Why would he need to apologize to you?

“You didn’t do anything w-wrong!” You stuttered at the last words, but you were surprised to have found your voice quicker this time. 

“Well, Billy told me that there was a girl that needed her friend’s help to put a bill in his jeans. He told me what you looked like and what table you were at… You were my target that night.” You froze at those words, and the knots in your belly started tangling even more, not understanding why he would target you like that. “Shit, I didn’t know you actually had a problem with men, I mean… You were at a strip club, Sweets.” 

You couldn’t help the small huff that escaped your lips with the hint of a smile on your lips. It did sound quite stupid if he said it like that. He stared at your reactions, taking a sip out of his coffee and you could see the movement from the corner of your eye, reminding you that you have some coffee in your hand as well. You took a sip too, feeling the warmth in your throat, soothing out the dryness this interaction provoked in you.

“It was… My best friend’s bachelorette party…” You explained to him and he was still not understanding where you were getting at, so he stayed silent for you to elaborate which made your nerves peak up again. “I-I didn’t want t-to bail on her.” You stuttered again as you talked about your feelings to a stranger who grinded on you a few nights back.

“Ah. I see. Next time you go to a place like that, wear a sign or something around your neck. You know, like the dogs that wear a harness that say ‘Nervous’.” Those words coming out of his mouth finally made you open your mouth as a giggle came out. You covered your mouth to stop your laughing but he caught you way off guard.

Eddie was still staring at you, a bit of pride in himself as he saw you laughing because of him, and he was glad you got to loosen up a little bit in his presence. He was curious, way too curious for his own good. Ever since he got this job with his friends, roommates even, all the women he met were straightforward, knowing what they wanted, hands roaming without fear all over his body. Yet you are here, embarrassed for laughing in front of him.

And your eyes still never met his.

“Why did you approach me darling?” 

Your giggles stopped immediately, and your eyes slightly widened as you put your hands around your coffee again. Your heart was simply exploding now, and the tips of your fingers were tapping on the cup, trying to steady a normal breathing pace in your lungs, in sync. You were being engulfed by flames, and it worsened each time you remembered that his gaze was on you.

But you didn’t want to feel like this, which irritated you even more.

“I-I want help.” At that, Eddie raised his eyebrow in question, but he rested against the booth, waiting for you to continue. You stayed silent for a minute, noticing that he was being patient with you, acknowledging the fact that this wasn’t easy for you to do, and the knot in your stomach detangled just a bit, loosening up enough for you to keep talking. “I want to be normal.”

Eddie’s eyebrows twitched at that. You didn’t think you were normal just because you had this situation going on with yourself. He felt a little sad for you, and he couldn’t even imagine for how long you really struggled with this. 

“I want– I want to be able to have a normal life…” You pressed on and he was slowly understanding where you were getting at, and he looked at your cup, seeing your name written on it. 

“Right… And you want my help with what exactly?” 

“I want to fight this… this shyness… I don’t want to be nervous anymore. I am tired of making a scene or embarrassing myself because of it. I don’t want my friends to accommodate to my needs everytime we go out…” You didn’t even notice that you did not stutter once at those statements. Statements you were fully aware of yourself and you were fed up with. Eddie, obviously, noticed, raising his eyebrows up, losing themselves under the small fringe of his curls.

He was looking at you, wondering how this day turned completely on its axis and now you were sitting in front of him, shaking like a deer in front of some headlights, but still voicing your worries out. He was skeptical really, not knowing if this was all a farce to get in his pants for free. 

He wasn’t going to lie, he would fuck you for free. You were pretty, but you didn’t make an effort to show that off. Your clothes were bland, your make up was just some blush on your cheeks, and your hair was tied up in a ponytail. 

But if your intentions were to sleep with him, you wouldn’t have said what you said next.

“I w-will pay you! I just want to– be able to talk eye to eye…” His heart clenched slightly at that. You didn’t want him to teach you sexual stuff, or something of the sort… You just wanted to be able to talk to him properly, or any man for that matter. He gave a small nod, as if in thought, even if you weren’t even looking at him. 

His life has been very monotonous lately. For the past year to be exact. It was work, women, eat, sleep, shower, and do it all over again, every single day. He didn’t know if his roommates felt the same, but he knew that Steve started pottery classes, and then Billy had gotten the hobby of playing video games in his free time. 

Yet Eddie didn’t have the motivation to do anything. Until now. 

This was new, intriguing, and something that might ignite some fire in his everyday mundane life. So he reached his hand out towards you, and you looked at his ringed fingers with wide eyes, wondering what was going on.

“First things first. Presentation. I’m Eddie.” He said to you and his hand was waiting patiently. You gulped as you stared down at it, but then realization hit you. He was going to help you with this, and a flame of happiness ignited in you, slowly reaching out and putting your palm against his. You noticed the different size and the warmth of his skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You gave him your name in a stutter and he grinned when he closed his hand on yours and saw you stiffen slightly, so he softened his grip, to then move your hands up and down gently in greeting. He pulled away, and you put your hand onto your lap as quickly as you could. Your whole body was ablaze, still looking at his phone to not clash eyes with him. 

“I-I can pay you–”

“Nothing.” Your eyes widened at that, raising an eyebrow up in question and you almost raised your head to look at him. “You look really shaken by this, and taking money from you doesn’t really sit right with me… And who knows, maybe this will blossom into an odd friendship.” 

Those words slipped out of his mouth before he could help it, and a slight pink tint formed on his cheeks. He really did crave for another friendship, already getting tired of just being with Billy and Steve. They are great, and they are almost like brothers, but maybe that was the thing. It was just those two, and no one else. 

You on the other hand turned a deep red at that, feeling your heart banging in your chest, not being able to take it anymore and you grab his phone, startling him completely and his eyes went wide at the action, but you didn’t move from the seat. You opened the dial without unlocking the phone, sliding up from the right corner of the screen and you pressed your cell phone number in there. 

You slid it back to him and stood up, not being able to handle the pressure of his stare any longer and he held onto his phone to look down at the number on it. His eyebrows centered in the middle with a frown and he raised his head up only to see you gone, turning his head around until he saw you rushing out of the shop through the window and into your car. 

He looked down at his screen, biting the inside of his cheek. He looked at his cup and saw the number of the barista under his name. She had tried many times to put her number down in his cup, but he never saved it on his phone. He looked down on your number, a scoff coming out of his lips.

“Hmm...”

You had been screaming into your pillow for the past half hour. 

You cannot believe what you did two hours ago. You gave your number to a stripper. To a goddamn stripper. And you even asked for help with this issue of yours, but what if it came out wrongly? What if he thought you were asking him to help you sexually? It didn’t really feel like that but what if you didn’t read the air right?

It was an impulse. A goddamn impulse, but you were fine, it was all going to be okay, because you left your phone, and maybe he doesn’t even indulge in this stupidity of yours and move on, or maybe he deletes it by mistake and everything will be back as it was before.

You stopped screaming at that.

But you didn’t want to go back to before. That’s why you took that chance, and you have to look at the positive side of all of this. You sat in front of him, you talked to him, you shook his hand! You shook a handsome man’s hand! That’s improvement, a lot of it. Yes, if you put your mind to it, maybe you can change this stupid part of yourself.

You remembered his voice. Deep but with a hint of mischief behind it, and then those words that sounded hopeful yet sad. How he managed to say that the two of you could become friends in the meantime. You wondered what his daily life was like now, outside of his job. Who did he live with? How old is he? What is his favorite food?

You grabbed your phone as you turned to look up at your ceiling. You unlocked your phone to start scrolling through TikTok. You smiled at all the dog videos that showed up on your For You page and saved all those cooking and baking tips you found. You were startled from your trance of scrolling when your phone started ringing. The beautiful sound ‘The Shire’ from The Lord of the Rings filled your ears which helped a lot to the anxious feeling of talking on the phone. Who did that nowadays?

You looked at the number and it was not saved on your phone. Should you answer? Maybe it’s a telemarketer. Did you forget to pay a bill? Internet? No, you paid all of those. Your eyes widened in realization.

What if it’s him?

You were about to start trembling and in your fuss you pressed the Answer button and you almost cried out as you started hearing the other side of the phone. 

‘We are calling to ensure you have the best communication serv–’

And you hang up, fucking automatic calls. You let out a sigh of relief until you felt that it wasn’t that much of relief at the end of it. Something felt uneasy within you, like something was not right. A certain disappointment maybe? Did you want him to be the one calling you? But that would be too much for you to handle, definitely. 

You sighed, sitting up on the bed, scratching your head until a soft ‘Ting’ on your phone caught your attention. You looked down on the notifications and it was a message from an unknown number. Your eyes widened when you looked into the text preview.

‘I believe that in text form, you won’t be too shy to talk to me.’

Your heart got caught in your throat as you begin to cough desperately. You weren’t expecting something from him so soon, and it startled you completely. You held onto your chest as you read the text again, and again and again… You didn’t feel the blood flowing at the tip of your fingers, his image coming up in your head. His side profile of today, but then his face up close to you, in the middle of purple and pink lights in the club.

You clenched your eyes tightly, trying to move the images away. You took a deep breath in and unlocked your phone, heading over to the text. First, you saved his contact, because you might forget right? Then you put in a personal notification message because you just felt like it, but maybe if you do that, you can also put in a special ringtone as well? You didn’t do that for everyone but you were feeling like–

You were stalling. You were definitely stalling. 

You gulped as you went back to the screen, now with the title ‘E’ because you didn’t want to receive a message from him when you were with your friends. They knew his name, so might as well tell them it’s Eleanor from work. 

You started typing ‘Hi’ but he didn’t start with hello, so you erased that. Maybe a ‘how are you’ or ‘how has your day been going’ but that really doesn’t sound right either, he didn’t ask you that at all. You deleted it again and were about to type in again until you saw the three dots that signaled you that he was typing.

‘Even on text? Damn, I wonder how many texts you just wrote and deleted.’

He caught you, red handed, and you took a deep breath in, pushing your embarrassment away as you started typing.

‘Not many.’ You were already biting the skin on the side of your left thumb thanks to your pumping heart, which only increased its beats every time you saw the three dots from his side.

‘Really? I bet you wrote ‘Hey handsome’ and deleted it, right?’

You giggled at that, feeling your nerves loosen up a bit at his cheekiness and you typed once more.

‘Oh, sure, whatever strokes your ego.’

‘That hurt princess.’ 

Your breath hitched at the endearment. 

‘You’ll survive.’

‘Black is not a color.’

‘Not you too with that bullshit. 🙄’

‘But it’s not, it’s a shade, as well as white!’

‘It’s my favorite color, a color, and that’s final.’

You giggled at the banter you were creating with Eddie over some texts. It’s been a week since you saw him and it’s been a week since you both started texting each other. They’re not long conversations really, just an hour a day or less, and it always starts with Eddie asking you something about yourself.

On Monday, it was your work. He made a lot of funny comments about how he is an accountant when you knew what his job actually is. Then Tuesday was about your favorite animal, in which you said Dog and he said bats. He told you he actually has a swarm of bats tattooed on his right forearm. Then food on wednesday, and favorite drink on thursday.

Today was about your favorite colors. 

Yours was red, sometimes purple, while Eddie claims that his favorite color is black. You were having fun messing with him, smiling at the phone as the nerves in your belly were kept to a minimum. You were surprised how loose you got when you received his texts, and it was almost as if you were excited when they did. 

“Why are you so smiley?” You blinked and looked up, completely forgetting you were having coffee with Robin at the Starbucks near your apartment complex. Robin actually got an apartment three floors down from yours and you were happy that you have a close friend as a neighbor. 

“Oh, um… El sent me a meme.” You lie, feeling your chest compress at it. You didn’t want to lie to your friends, but you were doing this behind their backs because you didn’t need the encouragement. You wanted to do this on your own, without the need of your friends overprotecting you as if you were a piece of paper that might rip apart at any comment a man does to you.

“Right…” She sipped on her coffee as another notification made you look down at the screen, and you went pale at what you saw. It was a message from Eddie, yes, but the anxiety started filling your stomach as you read what he wrote to you.

‘We should hang out this weekend. Test the waters.’

He was asking you out. Well not asking you out, more like hang out, as friends, but, oh no. You were feeling nauseous, the memory of his face, and his stomach showing coming up in your mind. You don’t think you will be able to tolerate it, and you don’t even know if you can trust this guy. You haven’t told your friends about Eddie, and if you went missing or something–

“IT’S EDDIE.” You blurted out, startling Robin, your panic winning completely over you. She spat the coffee, coughing loudly as she punched her chest a few times, trying to recover herself. You on the other hand were slightly panting from the anxiety that was eating you up, but the need to feel protected won you over. 

“What!?” 

“I AM TALKING WITH EDDIE.” You said again loudly, making various customers turn their heads at the commotion and Robin made you lower your voice with a big ‘shh’ and a hand movement. 

“Eddie… Who the fuck is Eddi– Oh, WHAT?!” Now the customers turned their heads at Robin’s explosion. You were clutching your phone to your chest and you could feel your eyes beginning to heat up from the tears that were threatening to leave them. 

“I know, I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to lie, but-but–” 

“Why are you talking to–” Robin looked around and bent over a little closer to whisper to you. “To the stripper?! Are you nuts?!”

“I mean– I might? I don’t know? I–” You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes as Robin sighed in front of you. “I just need help… Being normal…” Robin’s eyes turned those into sad ones as she looked up at you. She stood up, putting her hand out for you to take.

“Tell me all about it while we head back to your place.”

“Yep, you are definitely crazy.”

You were pacing back and forth while Robin watched you from the couch, looking down at all the texts you’ve sent Eddie. But even if she did call you crazy, your friend was proud of you because she never thought you would tell a man about your favorite things. She also didn’t expect this Eddie guy to actually be gentle with you, never crossing a line, never flirting with you.

She wondered if his intentions were pure and when you told him he didn’t accept the money, Robin was baffled. Now, the true reason as to why you had told her about this, is because of his last message. He didn’t pressure you into saying yes, so that was a green flag, and it also lets someone know who you were with last in case the worst case scenario happens.

“I know I am crazy Robin, I fucking know, it was an impulse–”

“But I think it’s working… I mean, maybe he can actually figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.” You gulped at that and continued pacing. Nothing traumatic with men happened to you, the absence of your father and the multiple cheating on your mother helped, but it didn’t explain the reason as to why it was almost as if you were terrified of men. Attractive men at that. 

You had of course the bullying at primary school, and then all the way to high school, but you cannot really pinpoint anything too cruel. 

“Robin, I– I don’t even know him. What if he makes a move on me?” You would probably pass out and he would have access to do whatever. You really don’t know the guy, even if he seems trustworthy on text messages, that’s just what they are. Text messages. He could be lying, he could be pretending to be something he is not, and you can’t read his face or his movements. Not that you would if you were in person either, because you can’t fucking look at him.

“I don’t think– Look, invite him to the bar three blocks down, just the two of you, and don’t make a fuss about it. He seems cool, and he never overstepped from what I’ve seen… Nothing with a double meaning either.” She was trying to reassure you, to help you with it. For some reason Robin had a feeling that you didn’t cross paths with the stripper again just out of pure coincidence. She was a fair believer of fate, and karma. 

“I– I mean it is public, a bar.” She gave you a nod and handed you the phone. You took it into your trembling fingers, looking down at the messages.

“Yes, and you have me as your emergency contact. You just have to press the lock button 5 times and I know where to get you.” That statement actually calms you a lot. And the fact that you would be at a bar three blocks away from home was also bringing you relief. “Remember, this is not a date… He is not asking you out romantically.”

“Right, I know that, as a friend.” You replied to her, giving Robin a nod as you felt another uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t describe once more. You looked down at your phone, and licked your lips, gulping loudly as you typed in your response.

‘Does tomorrow at 6, the bar between Monroe ST. and Chadwick sound good to you?’

You almost threw the phone towards Robin, feeling yourself cringe at the risky message you just sent, but if you truly think hard about it, he was the one who sent it first. Robin caught your phone as it trembled in your hand. She heard a popping sound and looked down at the screen, a smirk breaking on her lips.

“Sounds perfect, and I will give you a whole presentation on why Black is indeed a color."

You were trying to calm your nerves as you looked at the watch, every now and then on your phone. It’s already 6:05 PM and he didn’t show. It’s only five minutes late, but maybe he bailed?

But he was the one who asked you, why would he bail? But maybe he regretted it? Oh god, did he have to work today? You invited him without even asking and maybe he has a full night and you didn’t even think of–

“Parking around here is a pain in the ass Princess.” You heard his voice as he passed by you, sitting at the seat of the booth in front of you. You felt your body tensing up, and you were now self conscious of your clothes. But it wasn’t a date, so you dressed normally, and you applied a bit of mascara. You weren’t good at doing your own makeup so you settled for the simplest of things, because if you tried to do something, it would be worse than nothing.

Your eyes immediately drifted to the napkin holder on the side as you tried to gather up courage to talk to him. He sighed and put his phone on the table, right in front of him, which made your gaze drive to that. He did it so that he could see your face instead of your profile, taking note that last time you were together, your eyes didn’t leave his phone.

From your point of view you could see his shirt, which was a black simple t-shirt with an Iron Maiden illustration on it. You wanted to know what he looked like right now, and given from what you could smell of his perfume, he must look nice. 

“Sweets, I need you to cooperate with me here. We talked all week on the phone, I assure you it’s no different than using your voice.” You blinked once and maybe that was the trick. You just have to imagine this is just texting, as if you were reading your messages out loud.

“I-I know that…” The curiosity was killing you at this point, but you wanted to make sure of something first. “Do you work tonight? I didn’t even ask you before…” He was surprised at your question, and he smirked slightly, nodding. Once he realized you still weren’t looking at him, he sighed as he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, but not till 10 PM. Jason and Billy are on the early shift today.” He explained to you and that is actually a lot of time to talk to him. You didn’t think you would stand being with him, looking at his phone for more than an hour. You felt another presence approaching and you looked up to your side, seeing the waitress coming up.

“Ready to order?” She gave you a small smile and you nodded.

“A beer, please.” She put it down and turned to Eddie, her smile widening as you watched her interact with him. He must really look nice if this woman was smiling like that. Why can't you be like her? Why do you have to be so nervous about it all? You wanted to smile at a cute boy, not barf on him or pass out on the spot.

“Same as her.” Was his short reply. Your gaze went back down towards his phone as the waitress retreated to get your drinks. You wondered how he looked at her. Did he smile? Did he wink? Did he keep a serious face on? “Didn’t take you to be a beer kind of girl.”

“Oh, well, it’s really my drink of choice, but a sweet drink I like too sometimes.” You replied, keeping your gaze on his phone, imagining that everytime he talked to you, a small ‘Ting’ of a notification sounded in your ears.

“I like beer too, but I am more into the bitter kind of stuff.” He replied to you and you now burnt all over because you didn’t know how to keep the conversation flowing. Gladly, the waitress returned quickly with the two bottles of beer opened and ready to drink. You grabbed yours and saw Eddie’s hand wrapping around his own bottle, leaning it towards you. You gulped and clinked your bottle to his.

“To cure your shyness sweetheart.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips at that small sweet touch. Giving a cheer for you, even in the short lapse of knowing each other, made your heart calm down just a tiny bit as you took your first sip of the bottle. Eddie caught on the smile you gave and was about to talk when your phone rang.

You looked at the caller and saw it was Robin. Your eyes widened, realizing you didn’t tell her you were already with Eddie. It was kind of a safe protocol, tell her you arrived, tell her he arrived, and keep her updated if you remembered to do so. You had sent her your live location as well, keeping you safe at all times. You declined the call and immediately sent her a message to tell her you were with Eddie already and that everything seemed ok.

Eddie though, was wide eyed, staring at you.

“Was that the flute of The Shire?”

You blinked at your phone and you almost looked up thanks to your surprise. He liked The Lord of The Rings? You weren’t a super fan of it, but the soundtrack had captivated you since you were a kid. 

“I, yes–”

“Holy shit… Look, I only got my little brother to talk this with, and– I just never expected you to like something like that.” He replied, a wide grin on his face. You gulped, a blush on your cheeks. So he has a brother, another small detail of his life.

“I could say the same about you…” He chuckled at that, nodding at the thought.

“Never saw a Stripper being a total nerd?” He replied and you snorted at that, followed by a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand. He was thinking, wondering of a way to get you to look at him. “Is it your favorite movie Saga?”

“Oh, um… No, not really. Harry Potter is my favorite.” He was surprised at that answer, taking a sip of his beer, tapping his finger on the table. He didn’t know much about it, but he never really took the time to watch the movies chronologically. He had an idea of the main story, of course, but never knew the details.

“I like the fifth movie, the one with the hippogriff.” He said and your eyebrows pulled to the center in a frown at that.

“That’s the third movie…” You replied at that and he scratched his head, thinking hard as he tried to remember the small details.

“Really? Then wait, the fifth one is not the one with the snake right?” He tried again and you felt something in your belly, something like annoyance but not quite. 

“You never watched them correctly?” He shrugged at that.

“Never found the time, or cared enough to do so… Plus, the scenery is nothing like The Lord of the Rings.” And Eddie’s eyes immediately widened, his voice gone, and his hand clenching against the bottle in his hand.

“Okay, first of all, the scenery is fucking amazing, the shots are beautiful and they got them in real places and added CGI on them. Then, the soundtrack I admit, is nothing like The Lord of the Rings, but you can’t deny that all of the music in the movies are nostalgic and majestic. Also, the character designs are incredible, outfit wise and then we have all the spells! Everything is magical from the first movie to the last!” You replied to him with exasperation. You knew about Harry Potter, and you weren’t going to let him talk about your favorite thing like that.

“Ah, yes, I am not shaming it sweets, I just prefer the latter. Plus, I never understood that part of the movie where the bad guy returns from a diary? I mean…” He continued, trying to not show his surprise to you so you wouldn’t stop. You took another sip and continued talking.

“That would be the second movie, and it was a figment of a memory implanted in the diary. The diary was part of Voldemort’s soul, a horrocrux which helped him be sort of immortal.” You pressed on, throwing your knowledge at him. 

“Immortal?”

“He has seven horrocruxes in total, so he split his soul in seven parts. You had to destroy all seven in order to finally be able to kill him properly. You have to watch all of the movies in order to understand all of this! Or read all of the books!” You finished your blabbering with almost a pant.

“Sweets.”

“What?” You scoffed out and he chuckled, smiling at you.

“You’ve been talking to me, looking at me in the face, since you started ranting about Harry Potter.”

You froze, realizing that your eyes were looking into his brown ones. His hair was down, over his shoulders, the stubble you saw that day on his chin was gone, freshly shaved, and over his shirt he had a black leather jacket on. His dimples were showing as he smiled at you, and the knot in the stomach was there, it definitely was, urging you to run away.

But it didn’t urge you to look away. 

He squinted slightly as he inspected you. You weren’t looking away, which is a good sign, but you stopped talking all together. He was thinking, licking the inside of his bottom lip as he thought.

“What’s your favorite movie? Not Saga, movie.” He asked and you slightly snapped out of your trance, absorbing the way his mouth moved as he talked to you.

“T-Titanic.” He rolled his eyes at that and you slumped slightly as an angry frown came to your eyebrows again.

“Really? That cliché sweetheart?” Your mouth almost hung open at his words, feeling offended by him saying that about your favorite film.

“It’s a fucking masterpiece!” You replied to him and he sighed, leaning on the table as he took a sip of his beer again, and you followed afterwards to wet your dry throat.

“Indulge me, how is that romantic movie a masterpiece?”

“Well, I am noticing you are not the romantic type of guy, but looking past that, the scenes? The music and ambience are outstanding, and for it being a movie of 1997, it was so amazingly done! Not to mention that James Cameron was the first ever person to get clear images of the actual wreckage.” You replied, taking another sip and he was still looking at you.

He lied to you. He also thought Titanic was a masterpiece. But he came to realize something, but he needed to test something else first, just to make sure that his suspicions were correct.

“So you just said I am not the romantic type of guy… Does that mean you are? I mean, I want to understand right now, but with this thing you got going on… Did you ever… do anything?” He asked you, actually curious about it and you felt the knot in the stomach form once more, the lump in your throat suddenly blocking your voice and you immediately looked down towards his phone again, a deep crimson covering your cheeks.

“It’s… Not that I am a virgin– I don’t…” And Eddie’s head almost made a ‘ding’ sound. It had clicked the moment you stared into his eyes without noticing and you talked about something you liked. 

“I know what’s going on.” He softly muttered, very low but you could hear it, your eyebrows frowning at that. “Also, I didn’t bring my powerpoint presentation, sorry about that, but Black is a color, I mean, I am wearing it all right now.” He was at this again? You looked up at him, completely wide eyed, not believing he was still adamant about black being an actual color.

“Seriously Eddie, you can google it and it will tell you it’s a shade! I took art lessons in school, and the professor was always very strict on not calling white and black colors!” You were looking at him again. He nodded in thought and tapped the table, slumping back against the booth. He was staring at you, deep in his own mind, and you suddenly grew nervous at his stare. “What?”

“I know what’s happening here, in your mind that is.” You blinked in surprise at that, the statement taking you completely off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever you are confident about something you know, you have no trouble talking to me. You have no trouble talking to me about things you are passionate about, or have experience in.” 

You were dumbfounded. You never thought of something like that happening to you, but now some things clicked inside your head. You didn’t talk with your male coworkers, no… But when a new hire would enter the company and you had to train them? You had no problem. Then when meeting Jonathan, he was attractive, yes… But… you were excited that Nancy is happy with him.

“Holy shit…” You muttered with wide eyes and he nodded at you with a small smile appearing in his lips to then fade away.

“Yeah… But it means that your confidence level is low. Like, confidence in yourself. That’s why you can barely talk sometimes, or you don’t look up to meet my gaze, or well… looked up, past tense.” He smiled at you, and it made your cheeks flush, but still your head was spiraling at his words. 

You weren’t confident in yourself?

“You mean… like my self-esteem?” You asked, and he sighed, giving you a small nod which made your stomach sink.

“I don’t know about your past, and honestly you don’t have to tell me. But maybe we can do some baby steps…” 

“Baby steps?” He took a sip of his beer and nodded, leaning on the table as he put his hand out to start counting with his fingers.

“First, why don’t you wear makeup? Is it because you are allergic or…?” 

“Uh, no… I’m not very good at it.”

“Have you tried tutorials?” You shook your head, a small feeling of shame coming up your throat. “Okay, so that’s step one. Watch some, practice. I am not saying you need makeup, but it helps a lot with your ego. Trust me, when I put on eyeliner I feel like I can conquer the world.” He says with a chuckle and you tilt your head with curiosity pricking at the tip of your tongue.

“You wear makeup?”

“Hell yeah, makes me look pretty.” He smiles at you and you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. You couldn’t believe this man in front of you had a job like the one he has. “Step two, your clothes too.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” You say with an offended tone and he just stares at you.

“Seriously? You wear bland colors. Put a little bit of sparkle in it, something you might feel sexy in, or pretty, but you have to feel it. You don’t dress for others, only for yourself.” You tried to remember your closet, and you hated to admit he was right. All your shirts were simple, none of them were tank tops, none of them had nice cuts on the cleavage, or were tight… Your jeans were all the same, and you never wore dresses or skirts, no matter if you really wanted to.

You just never thought you’d look good in them.

Oh fuck… He actually might have found the problem. 

“Third, be confident in your voice. We’re going to slowly work on it, but I think you are headed in the right direction, just not quite.” He replied to you and he watched how your face contorted into confused frowns and then understanding ones as if you were realizing so many things in your head. 

“You mean to be able to, for example… Ask things?” He pointed a finger at you with a smile to his face.

“And there’s the first one. Yes… Till now I was the one engaging in conversations, being in text form or here. I was the one asking you all the questions.” You gave him a nod in understanding, feeling the knot in the stomach not so strongly as before. He is attractive, yes, but he is not making moves, or comments, or anything to put you in a nervous state. The nervousness was still there, and you still struggled to keep eye to eye contact, but you were facing him.

“I see… So, I gotta go shopping then?” You say with a small smile on your face and he chuckles at you, nodding, taking a sip of his beer.

“Remember, dress for you. Not for the other people around you. If you feel confident in it, then it’s all that matters. By confident, I don’t necessarily mean comfortable, but that can also help.” You were staring at him as if you had found a personal god of some sort. This man, this male stripper, was giving you better advice than any therapist ever gave you, than your FRIENDS ever gave you in fact. 

You were grateful for them, but they never understood that you wanted to get better. Instead, they always made sure to make you comfortable whenever you all went out together, always protected you when men approached your group, but never once helped you make the leap of getting better, of trying to be normal like them. They just accepted you the way you are.

But you didn’t want to be accepted like this. Not anymore.

“What is your favorite movie?” You asked him, and his eyes slightly widened at that, surprised by the change of conversation, but it seems you caught on in what you had to do. He smiled and laid back on the booth.

“Okay, what do you think my favorite movie is? Just by looking at me.” He says, flipping his hair over his shoulder and you giggled, as you looked at him. The nerves in your belly started forming again as you scanned his features, but you were trying to fight against it, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

You didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and you didn’t want to judge him. But he was asking you himself, right? And if you say something wrong it can be directed as a joke, but maybe he doesn’t like it? Maybe he thinks you are throwing yourself on him? WHat if you say something insinuating to him and you didn’t realize it? What would he say–

“You’re thinking too much about it. Stop.” He was looking at you, and you didn’t even notice you went into a sort of trance, trying to think of the words to say. You shook your head, body filling you up in flames, so before you went into a panic, he continued talking. “Just say the first thing that comes to your head. I am not a person that easily gets offended, sweetheart.”

Those words actually made your nerves settle somewhat, and you took a deep breath in to try to make your heart do the same. You inspected him again and he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a smirk.

“You look like a… The Notebook fan.” You joked, his eyes going wide, a laugh escaping his lips and you couldn’t help but giggle with him, his laugh being contagious, and the tips of your fingers began to feel warmth once again.

“Oh my god, how did you catch me? Am I that obvious?”

End of part 2

A/N: I promise that... things are just gonna heat up from here on out. This was just to prepare you guys for it. (Billy and Steve will make an appearance soon.) I might change the rating on here to Mature, so if you don't have it enabled, please do.

Taglist is open, comment if you want in or send me an ask ;)

Taglist: @katethetank @mynameismothra @emxxblog @steph-speaks @fantasticmacaroni @aysheashea @sweet-villain @sillypurplemurple @eddiemunsonthoughts @emilyslutface @bookshelf-dust @bibieddiesgf @justheretostan

[princessbrunette]

just thinkin about pope n innocent!reader,,, and her calling him daddy while he has her on her lap stuffing her w his fingers :( just thinking…

also, could i please be 📝 anon? :) i loovee ur writing

✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.

pope liked to reward good behaviour. he found positive reinforcement worked well with you, and was happy to use that to his advantage as it kept the two of you content.

if you were to make a good suggestion to the pogues, you were rewarded with something small and quiet as acknowledgement to your deed, like a kiss on the temple or a reassuring smile and nod. if you were to go out of your way to do something kind or helpful, like bringing him food when he’d forgotten to eat — or sewing up his shirt that got ripped on a pogue mission, you’d be rewarded with copious praise and affection, calling you his ‘good girl’ which seemed to be your favourite, melting like putty in his hands each and every time.

now these were things he did naturally, for nothing in return, purely because he wanted to. but it didn’t go unnoticed that the sweeter he was on his girl, the softer and more vulnerable you’d become — stripping you down to your most true self. he wanted you, wanted all of you— so he’d keep going, keep praising to work you out. you were popes favourite thing to study.

when you’d been consistently well behaved through the entire day, even when odds were against you — he’d often help you unwind with your favourite type of reward, having you on his lap with his long skilful fingers deep inside.

“i know, i know. how’s it feel when it rub you like this, hm? can you talk to me?” he used his softest tone on you, not the voice he uses to sark at jj or argue against john b’s outrageous plans. he was his softest, most relaxed with you — and he loved that you brought that out of him.

“i—i like it, m’gonna cum soon.” you wail but it’s muffled into the smooth skin of his shoulder muscle, the plane that had been bearing all of your pleased tears and sounds.

“thats good, bambie. gonna keep rubbing that pretty clit just like this okay?” he lilts his voice gently, tilting his head when you don’t respond, too focused on breathing out heavy breaths against him. he noses at your cheek, craning down to try and get your eyes on him. “okay?” he repeats and you screw your eyes shut, nodding.

“‘kay, daddy.” you release with a held breath. he’s kind of glad your eyes were shut, because it catches him off guard for a second, blinking down at you as he continues to work his fingers inside you, thumb resting over your button.

daddy.

he couldn’t say he was surprised that you were into that kind of thing, infact — jj had in a way predicted it in once when the two of them were out on the boat fishing. something along the lines of “nah dude she’s real sweet. i see why you like ‘er. got the whole innocent, ‘daddy please fuck me’ thing goin’ on, ‘ya know?” now at the time, pope had been too preoccupied with scolding jj over being vulgar about his girl to entertain the conversation, but now it was coming back to him and he realised he was right.

it definitely made sense. bad relationship with your own father which had wound you up in his arms— someone calm, nurturing, enforces gentle rules and guidance, teaches you new stuff. even away at college before he met you he was a magnet to a certain demographic of girl, one who needed a gentle demeanour and occasional firm hand.

he wracks his brain for what to say as he drops a long kiss to your forehead, blinking rapidly as thoughts fire off. he wants to please you, wants to be that for you— and for once he hadn’t done his ample research beforehand to really support you through it. he decides on something simple, trying it out.

“daddies right here, let it go for me, pretty girl.” he’s more of a natural than he realised, and as if he flipped some sort of switch— you gasp, clutching onto him hard as he feels you gush around his fingers in a water-fall like consistency.

you slur a bunch of nonsense against his skin as he shushes you kindly, ears pricking up and heat rising to his face and cock each time the word ‘daddy’ comes out muffled against his shoulder. if daddy was what you needed, daddy was what you’d get. he better get studying.

✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.

[inklore]

undo me

premise: the relationship between you and john is anything but soft, normal, domestic. it's deeper and more complicated than that. the pleasure and relief of desire that the two of you bring each other the only things clear cut.

pairing: john wick x (f)reader

word count: 904

warnings: eighteen+ content, handjob, dirty talk, references and illusions to oral and fingering, established fwbs, blood mention, reader is in the same 'business' as john.

note: i've never written for this beautiful man and it's honestly a crime because he's so underrated and i want to hold him!

The fire that’s burning in his eyes—lust fueled, hungry, a craving only you can stop that has that underlying anger within it—scalds your senses. Makes the hand that you have wrapped around his cock ache to move faster, to twist, and run your thumb along the leaking head so you can hear that deep groan he lets out against your forehead. The noises he tries to hide with the kisses to the top of your skull that are anything but affection. 

Affection he’d never admit to and you’d never claim anything of. 

The two of you were the same. Joined in loss and hatred, and the bloodshed that you’ve spilt and tainted your skin with was second nature. Something that felt like you were born into, for, the longer you stayed in the business. The longer enemies piled as high as the bodies you’d claimed along the way of some sort of redemption. A release. A freedom from something that had no end. 

It was only when you two were together like this—when John allowed himself to be like this with you—that those enemies, the bloodshed, and freedom didn’t matter. 

Weren’t pounding at the door, threatening to take your life before you could take theirs. 

You didn’t know if he was a giving lover. Not really. When you were done, he usually finished you off, always with his fingers. A handful of times with his mouth. There were no soft kisses or devotions whispered into the crook of your neck. Pulling him towards the bed and stripping like some domesticated couple was not in the cards. Wasn’t what this was about—why it had kept happening and why you always knew his knock by heart and grew wetter the closer you got to the door. 

To invite him another night to give each other the release you needed—that closeness to another person as your hearts would allow—and then he was gone and reality was back with a vengeance. 

Tonight is no different. 

The same knock. 

The same quick work of unbuckling his pants to slide your hand down them to pull out his cock and wrap your fist around it. 

Your knees had bent, a descent ready to be made to give him a better release from his tense shoulders with your mouth. But his grip on your hip had stopped you.

His forehead coming down on yours, hair growing slick with sweat the longer you jerked him off, the more his body sank into the pleasure. His breath heavy, “want your eyes on me tonight.” He had said, an overanalysis of the tenor in it, making you want to think it was begging. A desperate plea. 

But never from him. 

And you had done what he said. 

Kept your eyes on him.

Let your eyes move along his face; watch as he wets his lips with his tongue, as his eyes screw shut for half a second when you twist your wrist at the head of his cock the way he liked. The fist he had pressed into the door behind your head keeping himself stationary. His body weight half leaned into you, giving just enough room for him to move his hips.

To fuck up into your hand.

To set the pace he needed. 

There was a time and place for you to make conversation while doing this. To ask him if he had a rough day or crack a joke. But tonight, you know he doesn’t need it. He just needs this.

You.

Your hand. 

To get off. 

For you to help him. 

“John,” you murmur softly against his cheek. Bring his attention back to you, popping whatever fantasy he’s letting burn through his gaze, so he can only see you. “Tell me how good it feels; am I making you feel good?” 

“Yeah,” his voice has lost all of its normal sternness. All of the frightening edges that have men and women running. He sounds weak, breathless, and overcome. It makes you ache. “Couldn’t–” he curses under his breath. Brings the hand from your hip to your neck to rest and tighten with each downward stroke. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you tonight. I needed to see you. Needed to-”

“To come for me.” The noise he lets out at your words has your gut plummeting. Your thighs closing in around the leg he has positioned between them. You open your mouth to tell him to do it, to come for you, to let go. But his fingers are muffling your words. Stealing them from your tongue as he presses two fingers against it. 

“Get them wet.” He demands. Watches as you swirl your tongue around them and coat them in your spit, taking them out when he’s satisfied and moving them down to where your fingers are wrapped around him. Swiping the spit against his head for you to use as more friction—easier, wetter. 

You can tell he’s close by the hitch in his breath. The fast rock of his hips, the fingers digging into your neck. 

And the way he’s looking at you, the slow trail he makes between your eyes and your mouth, you half expect him to kiss you. To press his mouth to yours in a way he’s never done before. 

A slow seeping disappointment is swiped away by arousal when he says, “get on your knees. I want you to taste what you do to me.” 

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

No would believe Eddie if he told them that you are a softie--like the biggest one around. You love it when he runs a steady stroke over the apple of your cheek and presses kisses into your forehead and temples. You love it when Eddie tells you what you're having for dinner. You love it when you're curled up in bed and Eddie reads to you.

You are soft. But only around Eddie.

It was a slow process--to see it fully, the way you liked requinlishing some of the control to Eddie.

Eddie only started putting something together after one particularly rough shift at the hospital for you.

You came home and you slid down the front door, head buried in your head. It shocked Eddie a little to see you not even get a fully step into the house before crumbling. But it did sort of make sense. Your job demanded a lot. You were holding life and death at all turns in the hospital. You had to have your head on straight. You had to sometimes comfort families when the news was bad. You had to walk to your next patient like nothing had happened. You were always on. You had to be.

But that day--the day that Eddie started to realize that you were strong and put together because nearly the other facets of your life demanded it, but that you really wanted someone else to take over for you in specific spheres of your home life--changed nearly everything.

Eddie tried his best to console you, settling onto the floor next to you and rubbing a hand over your back as you sobbed. He kept asking what he could do, what you wanted from him, how he could help. All you get out was 'Off, I want it off.'

It didn't make sense to Eddie. He couldn't fathom what you wanted off. But after twenty minutes of you sobbing and curled into his arms, he just decided to put his foot down. He half carried you to the bathroom, got the water started, and started to strip you of your scrubs.

You didn't stop him. Not even after he added the bubbles that you liked. Eddie got you into the tub, leaning over the side of it to help you clean yourself off from the day. There were few words. Only Eddie's soft voice asking you to lift your arm so he could scrub your underarms or a warning that he was going to wash your pelvis. Eddie fixed dinner--though it was breakfast for dinner one of the few things Eddie could fix without burning a pot--and he tucked you into bed. The only thing you could muster in all of this was a soft thank you. You said it with a tiny smile and though your face still wore of the shadow of the day, a hollowness to your eyes, the smile was bright. You meant it and Eddie had gotten something right--even if he didn't know what it was exactly.

Again--this was only the start. The light bulb being screwed into place.

Then things started to add up.

It's not that you like being bossed around--heaven forbid Eddie try and tell you to go get your car's oil changed or the tires rotated or to not buy a specific item of clothing because you would go right in the opposite direction. However, you liked not having to think about certain things--you liked when Eddie started the grocery list or even just took care of it himself. You liked it when Eddie took your car for you for tune ups. You liked it when he'd have your favorite pajamas out on the bathroom counter after a twelve hour shift and he was fussing over the rosisteerre he was trying to get right.

You liked turning your brain off at home.

And no one, absolutely fucking no one, would believe any of this.

Because in public, you still corrected when Eddie's order was wrong for him, when he was indecisive about what to get--food, drink, clothes wise--you always had an answer. When Eddie couldn't get the words right on his tongue, you had them. When you walked the streets, you still wore the practiced, but albeit still aided by genetics, pout. You still had it together.

Like the time you and Eddie were looking at new mugs and a lost child wandered your way, Eddie froze up--trying to find anyone else that would be better equipped to help. Yet, you swooped in. You got to the kid's level asking gently for his name and offering yours when the kid didn't answer. You asked the little boy to describe his parent, or who he had come in with, and you carried him on your shoulders so he could see above the shelves. You got the kid reunited safely with his father. Eddie would've never been able to do that. But you could.

Even strangers seemed to gravitate towards you--though you tried your best to repel them--they'd strike up conversations and you were always polite but firm as you exited those conversations. You had an air about you that said you had your shit together. And you did--you always did.

But you didn't always want to have it together. You want someone else to be there for you--not to ask you to do something, but to do it for you so it was one less thing on your mental list. You liked turning your brain off.

Like now--he can see it. The look behind your eyes where the light is dimmed. Your eyes look a hollow. Your face looks a little dull.

"Gimme," Eddie states, hand stretched out. It's metaphorical. There's nothing to actually give Eddie. But you know what he means--you can let it go. You can drop your shoulders and you press your forehead into his shoulder. "I got you," he whispers, letting you have just a moment to take him in.

He doesn't let you linger long. He's gentle as he slings one of your arms over his shoulder and walks you to the bathroom. He closes the toilet lid and sets you down. Your shoes go first, socks with them. The tub starts to fill and you can get your scrubs off.

It's silent, but Eddie gets the water just right and helps you down into the tub. "I'll be right back--just relax, okay?"

You nod, meekly, as the bubbles fall over your chest. He exits the bathroom and then returns a moment later, a book in his hand. "We can chat or I can read. Those are the only two options you've got to worry about." Eddie holds up the book, The Princess Bride.

You shut your eyes just for a moment. You don't really want to have a choice.

"Hey, look at me," Eddie's voice sounds closer now. When you turn your head and crack open an eye, Eddie's kneeling next to the tub. "Last thing for today, promise."

The soft exhales ghost of your skin of Eddie's breath. The sound of his voice still rattles around in your brain. Promise. "Book, please," you whisper.

Eddie nods, pulling himself up onto the closed lit. "Close your eyes. Sit back. We're going to be in here until you literally shrivel up into a prune."

"Sounds lovely," you chuckle and do as directed. Eddie's voice--in all the accents and variations that he slips into easily, bounce around in your skull. You can feel the way the octaves drop in his throat or raise. You can imagine the dramatic hand gestures as Eddie switches his hold between his hands to emphasize certain characters, or pieces of dialogue and exposition.

You don't even have to care about the story--you don't think you've made it through one full novel without missing half the middle because you check out--and Eddie doesn't care if you care. He doesn't care if you want to listen. He knows that you need it. You need the sound of his voice. You need this not to be a choice all the time.

So Eddie's slowly worked through his tattered copies and he thinks maybe soon he should invest in a library card so he could check out a few more books in a vein you like more. But until his stack is thinned some more, he just picks one from the top of the unread pile.

It's like magic. After you do help with dinner--though Eddie declared it a left over day--you rest your head in his lap and he keeps you covered in the blanket you two keep on the couch, you are melting into his touch. "We gotta go to bed earlier tonight, yeah? Tomorrow we both have early shifts," Eddie warns as another commercial break interrupts the rerun you two are watching.

"Okay."

It's all you say. It's so soft as it leaves your throat it nearly melts Eddie's inside. He strokes the apple of your cheek with his thumb--the rings on his other fingers pressing softly along your jaw. You return the gesture with a kiss to his knee over the flannel pajama pants.

If only anyone would believe how much of a softie you could actually be.

[thenightling]

So Jack Skellington is problematic Now...

Ugh... In my re-embracing of my childhood favorite (Nightmare before Christmas) which turns thirty years old this year, I have had the displeasure of encountering "New" interpretations of the characters. I kind of hate that the Tumblr generation has discovered Nightmare before Christmas.

I'm stumbling across hot take after hot take about what an awful person Jack is and people "Cleverly" pointing out that Jack didn't listen to Sally, that he talked over her, that he does a lot of harm... Yeah, that's kind of the point. He's a f--k up. And he is oblivious. But he's not evil. And he's not abusive.

I even came across one tonight that said he's mentally unstable. No, his emotions are conveyed in a musical with song numbers by a very expressive and eccentric man who likes to play with his own vocal range and emotional expression in song. That's not "emotional instability." That's passion. All of Jack's emotions and reactions are warranted in the story.

One of the earliest hot takes I came across called the movie a "Dumpster Fire." And the person essentially said that Jack needs to be punished and that the mayor should strip him of his Pumpkin King Title. I think they don't realize a king out ranks a mayor, usually, and Jack isn't some beauty pageant winner. He is the king of Halloween. I think this new backlash against the character stems from interpretations that the movie is about cultural appropriation. People thinking Sally is too passive because they're used to "Strong women" actually fighting and kicking ass. But Sally is a strong character. She just doesn't do physical combat. I think we need to veer away from this shallow interpretation of "strong" requiring brute force. Sally is defiant. She questions things. She poisons her creator to escape him on a regular basis. And she even almost got away with freeing Santa Claus (almost at the cost of her own leg). That and a cultural stance of being anti-monarchy. It's kind of depressing seeing this sort of hate toward Jack. I know it's a children's film but it says a lot when people can't forgive the protagonist of a children's film for being oblivious (toward Sally and about taking over Christmas). There are actually people who think Jack will eventually get bored and lose interest in Sally because she's just "another high" for him and think he's a narcissist. If Jack was a true narcissist he would not have rushed to their rescue the way he did. Also The soundtrack album and novelization both tell you that Jack and Sally had "Four or five" children together. Jack never gets bored with her. The thing that Jack was missing the whole time was love- an emotional connection to another on a personal level. That's why he became obsessed with Christmas. He sensed the pure love attached to the holiday. He just didn't realize how close that potential connection- that love actually was. To think Sally is just another high for him is to miss the entire point of Jack's Lament, what the emptiness and longing was inside of Jack, and also ruins the intended sweetness of the ending. Despite what a lot of sequels do today with romances, these two were meant to be a Happily Ever After- without question. The idea was that Jack's obsession with Christmas came from a high, yes, but that high came from sensing the love innate in the holiday itself. That's the longing and emptiness he felt in the song Jack's Lament, the lack of deep interpersonal connection- love. He had fans but he didn't really have someone actually care about him as a person and get to know him or try to.

Jack would probably have other adventures and screw ups. But I don't think he'd get bored with Sally, she is a connection he has with no one else. And that's very important to someone who has experienced profound loneliness.

In regard to Jack's behavior in the movie... "Never attribute to malice what can adequately be explained by stupidity." Jack isn't stupid. But he IS very naive. And he makes horrible mistakes. Once he realizes he has made these mistakes he sets out to make things right. A more adult version of this issue came up when I first got into Neil Gaiman's The Sandman. Someone sent me an anonymous ask on Tumblr that read "Do you acknowledge all the terrible things Morpheus has done or do you ignore them because he's your fave?" He's my favorite partly BECAUSE he's a screw up. I like characters that make terrible mistakes and then attempt to set things right. I like redemption stories. I like character growth.

Has our culture reached some very unsympathetic and rather cruel point that protagonists can't make bad mistakes, can't have faults and failings? They need to be perfect and always do the right thing at all times lest forever be condemned as problematic?! For God's sake, I'm reading rants on why the King of Halloween wanting to do Christmas and not listening to the girl who has a crush on him should result in a beheading. Kids... Calm down. Not everything needs righteous rage.

[detectivemaker]

idea dump

This is just me jumping out ideas I've been having into The Fray

1. I've been seeing a lot of DC My Little Pony stuff especially Batman My Little Pony,  here's the Dork Squad and Michael and my MLP AU  that I probably won't write much about after I dump this into the world 

Jervis is either a unicorn who can't do magic so good (sort of like retrovrt's Pony Jervis) or non unicorn Type of Pony who really wants to be a unicorn (for anyone who also has an Instagram and follows @hatterhare, it's sort of like their version of pony Jervis)

Jonathan is a unicorn who due to experiments by his father was turned into  sort of a hybrid changeling creature who feeds on fear and can't shapeshift,  what makes it worse is that not soon after his horrible transformation he got his cutie mark, so it was his Destiny to be horribly mutated into a fear sustained abomination

Edward is a Pegasus blank flank,  he hides the fact that he is a talentless loser by trying to be the smartest guy in all the Equestria,   my idea is that he thought the best way to find his talent was to learn about different things, but he sent so much of his time learning those things he never actually did them to see if they were what he was destined to be good at

And finally Michael he's a draconoquist,  he sort of a lesser draconoquist cuz he's  only made up of snake and Cat parts, he's a draconic lord of insanity (still in training, his dad's the ascended Lord of insanity and that guy's pretty possessive of that title), but he says he's the draconic Lord of love when he's freed from his Stone prison he was put in by his father by the Dork Squad, who got into the heated argument (it was mostly John and Edward fighting jervis was trying to make them stop), and he bribes them into helping him gain more power by spreading Insanity (which will make him powerful so he can go back to the  draconoquist Dimension and kick his dad's ass to become the new ascended Lord of insanity) by promising them these things

To either turn Jervis into a unicorn or get rid of his pounding magic induced headaches

Give Edward the knowledge of what to do to get his cutie mark

And nothing for  Jonathan,  and he would undo the horrible hybridization he went through, but that's part of his Destiny and Michael cannot screw  with Destiny, so he just uses the old finger Boop  induced draconic hypnotism and make  him help

2. So you guys know that fetch me the souls audio,  I listen to a song that had it in there and I had this idea, about Michael absolutely  body horror transforming our favorite tree of dorks in to creatures I can best imagine as sort of like Hellraiser demons, and then absolutely evacuating the minds and making them more attack dogs than actual people, this idea also Associates this idea I have from time to time of all of them being stripped of one of their senses (think sort of like See No Evil Hear No Evil speak no evil monkeys)

jervis loses the ability to speak,  but not the ability to make noise, he's rendered the most animalistic of the three and can only make animal noises, also he's given a dog muzzle, I think either he wears no clothes or just some pants, and walks around like a dog

Jonathan is stripped of the ability of sight,  dressed up like a demented priest,  his eyes are covered by a blindfold either decorated with eye imagery or snake imagery, and can now  only yell words,  just imagine you a burglar, you just entered some weird Victorian hell mansion and just escaped a dog man, you walk into a place that looks like the interior of a church, suddenly some guy standing at the older whips his head around that your footsteps, points at you and he  yells the word heresy at the top of his lungs,  then you're tackled from behind by the dog man who  heard that and then your throat is ripped out with his terrible filthy dog man claws

Edward lost the ability to hear, he just doesn't have ears, he's the most normal looking other than the lack of ears but he sure can see pretty good

3, so I've been thinking about the hattercrow kids relationship with their grandmother, more specifically the grandmother on crane's side,  my John doesn't really know the specifics of his birth but he think it might either be   teen pregnancy or rape, maybe a little bit of both, but what he does know is his mother's is current location,  he informs the children when Dorothy is 20 and the twins are 10, they decide to visit their gram gram and have a pretty good time, John comes to,  reconnects with his absent mother  who gives him a hug and her cookbook, he comes back home and he doesn't stop smiling till next week

They don't really visit much after that, John and his mom text and call every once in awhile,  but not soon after the move back to Gotham Mrs crane kicks the bucket, and John cries harder than he did in that  Crow Barn

He never does learn about the circumstances of his birth, his mom asked if he wanted to know but he said he didn't, and truth be told he actually does not, it doesn't really matter he was born, he lived hated,  and now he's being loved by a wonderful husband and wonderful children, and  though only a little while a mother he barely knew and cried like a baby for

[the-firebird69]

You've had several complaints that you can't hear or see the words here. And it's too many people listening to him. I know we're checking but we're not doing anything effective about it. We need to know and we need to go and do it we're getting the presence we need to keep building it up. Right now we have 200 projects and there are 300 more now that they're coming down.

For real there are 200 permitted projects in Florida and we are going to have 300 more today . Now these projects are varied the200 are houses and apartments where is the 300 additional are an assortment or projects there's probably 100 houses probably actually 100 apartments the rest are strip malls restaurants grocery stores.

There's a new law in Florida not the nation about immigration and instructor it is stricter enforcement and they're not trying to repeal it but they're out there protesting it and they're just foreigners but the law is pretty strict and they should probably reduce the effect of it but they're not going to. Tons and tons of idiots are trying to expel them quoting the new law and they're getting beat up where they stand and it's going on now. Our son and daughter been saying you can't take a fight any fight and your mouths are huge and they keep on doing it and relentlessly and their people are all dying because they won't stop doing it. What's going on today that we are taking these people out of public office it started yesterday is going on today and is more of it because it's more of a minority workers.

Yes several other things here in punta Gorda and they're going on right now and it is a matter of survival for some people to know about it and a lot of these fatheaded idiots are in the way and they're getting beat up by them as we speak

-is something else is going on and it's because our son has no safe place to go and no real shelter if there's a storm and these people are going to pay for it it's extortion and they're screwing around the money and they're trying to extract money from anyone they can and when they call us up we go out and get them including the city next door and he's a little w**** that day he will sell you out for $10 and lose a hundred and think he's getting ahead because he's such a w****. That we know we've been doing it and he doesn't sit down he just keeps handing stuff out saying I'll get back at you and it's time to take care of this person it's taking up time already this morning he's not even hearing it or volume is low. We're going after him we're going to take care of his little problem today. Two two John William Lord has a lot of stuff that took for Max a ton of it from all sorts of Acts they are finding it and getting motivated.

We're after these guys here for what they're doing all over the place, then we're going to get them for what they're doing here.

It's another day we have a plan and there's a plan to evict him and it's coming up that's why several people having trouble with him and he will be out finally out of commissions it is what will happen. The state of Florida is trying to evict him and it's because he is part of social security the same with Dan even though they're constantly trying to drop it the idiots the only thing they had going. And he's trying pretty hard. Every time he comes by he tries to put a notice up. He lives a couple houses down and he has it with him he's been trying to put it up there one day he came by as a sheriff and he said this is much easier. That the neighborhood threatened him and to shoot him so he got out of his vehicle I had to notice and I said get back in your car and I knew it was for so he's coming close he lives that notice and our son sees it and others it's all over like a Scarlet letter.

Just try to do it to Dan too and Stan was trying to get down to the courthouse they can't seem to do it so he says this makes sense it's not easy it's not because of Jason it's because they're in the way and still so lost that's going to happen there's nobody wants them there and Mac is finally saying I've probably had enough of him there and is thinking of getting him out. On the Western hemisphere oh stands took a beating he had like 20 bases and they're all infiltrated and all of them went down to like 30% he had 800,000 ships now he has 500,000. 500,000 ships left are partially assigned to the Eastern hemisphere about 300,000 and 200,000 in the Western hemisphere. And The shield is not counted in that number he has four systems and it is in a movie and it's coming up. For some reason is the movie about the empire falling as a movie. And these guys are glue a Son's son attacking his father and stuff like that, but they mean him on Biden and is not doing that. And in the larger sense in all the supply and they're going to regret it because it's Max saying it too his bja is some sort of mutation and an abomination with Max general motif or something. So it's going forwards then outside of it is much more potent it's saying this is what's happening to your version of your empire it is going away and you know the rest of it still there.

It's a little bit of a funny because it always acting like they're them and saying they're doing badly and they're trying to do it and it really shows is it's not those kids fighting each other hoping for a Lucky strike and failing and leaving but the living style and starting a revolution against the empire and that's what they do shortly it is Stan well that's pretty bad. Right now the more locks are gearing up to take the Eastern hemisphere basis and thus the 300,000 large left and it will leave stand stranded here and his people will come in and we'll finish off the morllock. That will happen around 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. tonight no around 10:00 a.m. this morning it will start. The bases are under siege they are exiting the areas and they are headed right here and they get on the plane and they can get here usually by themselves no it was Max and they're not very disturbing it's working they say.

Have a few more things but this is important. After tonight the eastern hemisphere will be very weak with Stan if anything and he's probably going to have two bases and their mediums and that's just about it it'll support a few other chips and he goes after tunus and it's an area there that is fortified it's like a natural bunker. He has a plan and the artist started it it's got off to a rough start. It does go to the museum and people don't know if he gets out it is a real thing to happen our son thinks he might because he thinks grievous goes in after it's partly or almost all the way burned and that's Trump and he comes out and goes after him and for the incident if I said he finds him handy hands and finally shoots him and it wasn't him who hit him and cut him in half it was Brian but he was made to lose by Trump he found out and he dies he kills Trump fully and it's coming up very soon the whole saga doesn't take long 3 days and before that the preamble is not that long and they get kicked out of Florida and that's coming up pretty soon. Is there a son of stuck with him so he says what I should go over here and noo. Are you still here so that's what they're saying.

There's other things happening we're going to publish those too long

Thor Freya

So huge day this is the beginning of the end of warlock and the mac warlocks that is. And it's going to be a big day there's a whole ton of them coming down and this number is being thrown around all morning given by us there's a bunch because there's a lot and they're saying that they're going to be 8% of the population of Florida and the macro lock are reducing to below 3% as we speak and they're leaving they don't like each other and the macaron are very abusive of them but now just don't have it they're not doing it and they're leaving they're evacuating about 1% right now that's a lot of people and it will be to 2% by the end of the day we think maybe 10% minority morlocks. My husband says he's seen more material trucks driving around and that's true and people doing projects and they are getting to work all over Florida are pulling brush out it's still quite a job and the current rate will take a few weeks or a month but there's more and more coming and they do that kind of work and they need that kind of work to help establish and there are a lot of carpentry people and more coming down a lot of them know how to build a fact the house is being built here and built by them and the Macklemore lock are holding them up. This is a huge number coming down and there's going to sign up for the government already they are 60% of Florida's government and 70% of Port Charlotte and punta Gorda and city government too it's a little less like 50% here but elsewhere is going up there we think by the end of the day it'll be 70% of Florida's government positions and 80% of Charlotte county including the cities governments and is layoffs today and we're going to list them in a moment

Hera

We love the song and she's going to announce what's going on

Olympus

[atlafan]

And They Were Roommates - One Shot

a/n: I’ve had this idea for a long time, and I’m glad it’s finally come together. I love friends to lovers fics, they make my stomach twist in the best possible way, so I hope you all enjoy these two! Feedback and reblogs are always helpful. (not proofread)

Warnings: two idiots refusing to just get together until they do, SMUT, mentions of Only Fans (which I truthfully know nothing about, but I wanted to make things saucy)

Words: 11.3K

“We just need to be quiet in case my roommate’s home.” You say to your date, Jeremy, as you key into your flat. He nods with a grin as you enter.

“Hey, lovie, how was the-“ Harry smirks when he sees you come in with your date. “I see it went well, never mind.”

You roll your eyes at him. He was sitting on the couch in some sweat pants, and that was it, watching some romantic comedy.

“Harry, this is Jeremy, Jeremy this is my roommate Harry.”

“I’m her best friend too, but I can see she clearly hasn’t brought me up all night. M’a little offended, pet.”

“Okay, well, I’ll try to be more courteous.” You shake your head at him, and tug Jeremy along to your bedroom. “Sorry about him. He usually goes out on Friday nights, but lately he’s been staying in more.”

“You…you live with that guy?”

“Sure.” You shrug and then wrap your arms around his neck. “We’ve been friends for years, and we’re in the same grad program, so it just made sense to split a flat.”

“Listen…uh, I was excited that you invited me up, but I can’t fuck you with that guy sitting out there.”

“What?” You frown and step back. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll just think you’re thinking of him the whole time. He’s…like…perfect! I can’t compete with that.”

“Jeremy, you’re being silly, just clear your head, we can-“

“Sorry, Y/N.”

Jeremy opens your door and leaves you standing in your room. You were in shock. Jeremy walks quickly back out into the main area, and sees Harry still sitting and watching his movie.

“Oi, that was quick, mate. Hope you left my girl satisfied.” Harry grins at a disgruntled Jeremy, and he leaves.

“You know it’s comments like that…” You sniffle as you stand there in your pretty dress and heels. “That make guys just up and leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He took one look at you sitting there like that and ran off!”

“So, I can’t even sit in the comfort of my own living room without some douche feeling emasculated? Are you sure you want someone like that fucking you, Y/N?”

“I just wanted to hook up! Christ, now I have to go take care of it myself.” You groan.

“Well, when you’re done, come join me. We can watch My Best Friend’s Wedding.” He leans forward and smiles. “You look really nice tonight, I’m sorry he was an idiot.”

“Thanks.” You wipe your finger under your nose. “Would you make some popcorn or something?”

“On it.”

Alright, some explanation is probably needed here. See, you and Harry met your sophomore year of uni, no, not drunk at some party, in class, actually. You both were education majors, so you ended up having a lot of classes together once you really dove into your major courses. You got paired up on a project together, and there was no separation between the two of you after that.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t have been the type of guy you’d be friends with. To be honest, he dressed like a douchebag when you first met him. You wondered why he’d want to be a teacher. He had floppy curls, wore a snapback with every outfit, and you didn’t think he owned a pair of jeans that didn’t have any rips in them. Although, you did enjoy his Chelsea boots, his sweaters, and his nail polish and rings.

You were innocent, and sort of preppy while he was loud mouthed and scruffy. Your friend groups never merged, but your best friend knew about your friendship with Harry. She’d constantly poke fun and say you had a crush on him. You didn’t. Harry was hot as fuck, anyone with eyes could see that, but you weren’t into him in that way. That was one of the reasons he liked hanging out with you so much. Most girls that tried to be his friend were just trying to fuck, and that could be fun, but sometimes he genuinely wanted to meet up for coffee and have a conversation without it leading to screwing on an extra-long twin bed.

Harry’s friends knew you well. As the years went on, you’d often be the one he’d bring back to his place drunk. You started off by sleeping on the floor, and then one night you realized you both adults and could sleep in the same bed. His friends would give him an equally tough time about you. Sometimes you’d come over and wait in his room for him while he was out with another girl. To some that may have been weird, but nothing was better than drunk platonic cuddles.

There was one night, your senior year, you had woken up with him spooning you. In all the nights spent together, you two never fell asleep or woke up like that. You didn’t shift when you felt his morning wood poking you. His arm was draped loosely over you. You almost wanted to see if he’d make a move, so you pretended to stay asleep a little longer. His hand had slid to your hip and squeezed it, but that was the extent of the interaction. He rolled onto his back, and you did the same. You looked up at him and started giggling.

“It’s not funny.” He groaned, putting his forearm over his eyes.

“Didn’t know I did it for you, Har.” You poked the dimple forming on his face as he smiled.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, happens to every guy in the morning.” He peered down at you and you rolled your eyes.

You had never spoken about it afterwards. You didn’t want to embarrass him. When you both talked about grad school, and got into the same university, he asked you to be his flat-mate.

“You don’t wanna live with Niall and Louis anymore?”

“They’re getting real jobs, they won’t wanna listen to me complain about school. I’ve found a great two bedroom place. I think it could be fun for us. Dontcha wanna live with me, baby?” He pouted at you and you nudged his shoulder and laughed.

“Christ, I hate it when you start getting all beggy. Alright, we can live together.”

He took you in his arms and hugged you. You were both extremely excited. Sometimes it seemed like you and Harry knew everything about each other, but that was not the case. After you moved in and got settled, it was time you revealed something to him. You called him into your bedroom to talk.

“Is everything okay? You’re not having doubts, are you?”

“No! Not at all, I’m glad we’re doing this. I feel safe with you here, and I’m glad we still have classes together. I…I just need to tell you something. Um, I don’t know what you do to...like, when you’re alone, I don’t know what you use, but I know things can pop up geographically, so I just wanted to warn you.” You bit your bottom lip, and turned your laptop around to show him your Only Fans page. His eyes widened, and then he shook his head.

“This is a joke, right? You made a fake website.”

“It’s not fake…” You muttered. “I don’t do lives, I don’t get naked, and I don’t show my face.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I was a dance minor, as you may recall.” He nodded yes at you. “So I make little strip tease videos and blur my face. Sometimes I take lingerie photos too. It’s a wonder what people will pay for.”

“How’d you get into this?” There was no judgement in his voice, he was genuinely curious.

“It started as a joke between Jenna and I, but then we started making money, and it’s enough that I can pay all my bills and live comfortably. I’ve already paid off one of my student loans thanks to this. I don’t even know if you use Only Fans, but I knew you’d probably recognize me or something if you stumbled across it so…I just wanted to warn you.”

“You know…the coffee shop I work at is hiring if you don’t feel like doing this kind of stuff.” He smirked.

“I actually don’t mind it. I essentially work for myself.”

“So you don’t sit in front of your camera and get yourself off with little bunny ears on?”

“No.” You laughed. “Just videos of me dancing in some intricate lighting, and saucy photos.”

“Can I see?”

“What?!”

“Not one of the videos, show me some pictures.”

“Harry…”

“Come on. I’ve seen you dressed to the nines before, but I’m having trouble believing you would take any provocative photos.”

“Fine.” You clicked through the various photos, and find a mostly decent one. “Here, you can look at this one.”

His eyes widen again as he scans it over. You could only see your face from the lips down. You had a lollypop pressed to them, and some of the juice from it was dripping down your chin. You were laying on your bed in a pink lace bodysuit, and if he squinted he could probably see your nipples, but he chose against it. Your legs were up against the headboard, crossed at the ankle.

“Well?” You asked.

“It’s, uh, it’s very tasteful.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for telling me…I…I  mean I definitely look at porn sometimes, so…uh…definitely wouldn’t have wanted to accidentally wanked it to you.”

“I doubt you would have even stayed on my page for long. You probably like to watch the really freaky shit.” You grinned and closed your laptop.

“I don’t know, there’s something sort of sexy about someone looking so innocent.”

“And that’s exactly what my viewers seem to say in the comments.”

Harry never brought up your page after that. You didn’t make him promise not to go searching for it, you just figured he wouldn’t. With all that aside, your living situation was working out perfectly. Sometimes Harry would bring home the day old muffins or bagels from the coffee shop, and you both had all the free coffee you could drink.

When you first moved in he was like his old self. He went out on dates almost every weekend. Normally he wouldn’t bring someone back, but once in a while he would. You never minded, you’d bring people back too, but you started to notice a pattern. Most guys either would have a tough time fucking you if he was home, or would end up leaving the way Jeremy did. You weren’t sure why they felt so threatened by Harry.

You supposed Jeremy could have been taken aback by seeing Harry shirtless. He was muscular, but not quite skinny. Buff in a way. He could hurt someone if he really wanted to. Once you’ve changed into some comfy pj’s, you plop down on the couch with Harry, and dive into the bowl of popcorn he made so you could watch your movie.

“So, I take it you’re not gonna take care of things yourself?”

“I’m too annoyed now.” You sigh. “It’s fine. I’ll try my luck with some random when we go out tomorrow night.”

“Good idea.” He throws his arm around you, and you both settle as the opening credits start.

//

Harry had to be up early for his shift at the coffee shop. After getting some schoolwork done, you took the opportunity to get some other work done. You had to be dressed for the club tonight anyways, so you got dolled up, and took some new photos for your page. You always got comments about your lips, so you’d use blow-pops to kiss against, or to rub against. You got some really great shots in, and got dressed in your regular clothes before Harry got home.

“Got your evening makeup on already? It’ll be hours before we leave, love.” He says as he runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re not the only one that worked today.” You wink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“You know, if I didn’t have all my tattoos I could be doing the same thing you’re doing.”

“Plenty of people with tattoos have pages.”

“The last thing I need is to start working at some school, and have a parent recognize me for the wrong reasons.”

“True.” You nod and go into the fridge. “I’m gonna make some stirfry, are you hungry?”

“I could eat.” He shrugs. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Alright.”

You didn’t necessarily mind that you’re dating life was a little tricky. You had all the domesticity you could need with Harry, however, you were certainly hoping to meet someone tonight at the club. You just wanted to have a meaningless hookup.

After dinner, and having a couple of drinks at home, you and Harry meet up with Niall and Louis at the club. Louis and Harry were laughing over something, so you decide to pay Niall a little attention. You always thought he was cute and funny. He was always nice to you too, as was Louis.

“How are things with your classes?” He asks. “Sort of wish I was doing the grad school thing.”

“Oh, but your job is so cool! Data analysis is riveting.” You giggle against the rim of your drink and he shakes his head. “Classes are good. I’m more so just excited to start teaching, but I have a while for that yet. Practicum last year was such a tease.”

“I bet you’d be a fun teacher, you’d certainly have no problem keeping my attention.” He slings one of his arms around the back of the booth you were sitting in and he inches closer. You smile at him and take a sip of your drink.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You put your hand on his shoulder and twirl the material of his shirt around your finger.

“Your voice for one thing. It’s smooth, soothing. Your smile is sweet, so that helps too.”

You blush a little from his compliments, and finish your drink.

“Need another, babe?” Harry asks, breaking you and Niall from your little chat.

“I can get it.” Niall says. “Vodka tonic?”

“Please.” You smile and watch him go up to the bar. Louis and Harry look at you. “What?”

“Are you trying to fuck Niall?” Louis asks.

“Of course she’s no-“ Harry says, but he’s cut off by you.

“So what if I am?” She scoffs. “It’s safer than trying to get some guy I don’t know, right?”

“If that’s the case, why not just fuck Harry?” Louis smirks.

Harry death glares Louis as your face scrunches.

“It’s a little cliché, isn’t it?” You say. “Fucking your roommate and best friend? I’ll pass. That’s a load of drama we don’t need.”

“So, what you’re saying is, if Harry wasn’t your roommate or your best friend, you’d fuck him?”

“Hmm…” You tap your chin playfully and look Harry up and down. Before you can answer, Niall returns with your drink, and another round for the guys. “Thank you.” You say to him, and he sits down closely next to you.

“You wouldn’t wanna dance, would you?” Niall asks you.

“I’d love to!”

You both get up and make your way over to the dancefloor. Harry sulks while he plays with the straw in his drink.

“What are you all mopey for, huh?” Louis asks him.

“I don’t really like the idea of them hooking up. Could change the dynamic of things for all of us.”

“Instead of worrying about that, why don’t we try to go meet some ladies of our own, hm?” Louis smiles at Harry, and Harry nods in agreement.

You were having a lot of fun dancing with Niall, and his laugh was infectious tonight. You told him you needed to use the ladies room, and when you came back he was acting like a completely different person.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask him over the blaring music.

“No! I just…” He looks over at Harry and Louis and then back to you. “We really shouldn’t be messing around like this.”

“We were just dancing.”

“But it was going to lead to something more, no?”

“Did you want it to?”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my friend, and…I wouldn’t want to make anything weird between us.”

“So…you don’t wanna go into the single stall bathroom and have me suck you off?” You bat your lashes at him and his eyes widen.

“Shit.” He says under his breath. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, and leads you through the crowd of people. You both go into the bathroom without a single thought and lock the door. You could hear the music faintly as you looked at each other.

“You seemed pretty sure of things before.” You say to him.

“I…I wigged out for a second. I really want this.”

You smile and step forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands go to your hips, and he squeezes you. He tasted like the tequila he had been drinking, and you smile against him. You kiss across his jaw, and to his neck while your hands work to undo his belt.

“You’re okay with this?” You ask him.

“Yeah, go for it. Would it be easier if I sat up on the counter?”

“No, I don’t mind getting on my knees, thanks.” You smirk at him and sink down, tugging his pants and boxers down just enough for his hard dick to spring out. You look up at him, impressed.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“Sorry.” You chuckle. “Good for you, though, honestly.”

You kiss his tip and he jerks slightly towards you. You wrap your lips around him, and suck on him. His hands move your hair back, and you close your eyes as you work him over. You pump what you can’t fit, or what you don’t feel like fitting, and you hear him panting. This is all you wanted, you just wanted to make someone feel good.

“Y/N, I’m gonna come.” He warns you, and you give his thigh a squeeze to let him know it’s okay.

He comes into your mouth, and you swallow it to not make a mess. He helps you stand up, and then you help him zip his pants. After rinsing your mouth out he grabs you and kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed as he sucks on your bottom lip.

“Would you finger me?” You ask him just above a whisper against your lips.

“I’ll do anything you want.”

//

Louis was off making out with some girl while Harry was at the bar, brooding. You and Niall come back from the bathroom with flushed cheeks. Harry looks at you, and then looks at Niall. Niall just rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

“Y/N, are you ready to go home?” Harry asks her.

“Um…I was hoping to have another drink, but if you wanna leave we can.”

“I’d like to, yeah.”

You both say goodnight to Niall, and head out. He doesn’t say anything to in the back of the cab, and he’s quiet as you both go inside your flat. He fills two glasses of water and hands one to you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him.

“Why’d you have to fuck my friend? Of all the guys in there, it had to be Niall?”

“I’m going to bed, I’m not having this conversation with you.” You start to walk away from him.

“So if I took Rachel into the bathroom at club and fucked her, you’d be fine with it?”

“Rachel’s a lesbian, so that’s a moot point.”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I wouldn’t care, Harry. Also, you make it seem like Niall isn’t my friend, when he is. And not that it’s any of your business, but we didn’t do more than diddle each other. I sucked him off, and then I let him finger me, that was it.”

“You know, if you just needed to get off, I’m sure your own hand would have sufficed.” He huffs.

“Sometimes you just wanna feel someone else’s hand.” You say quietly.

“So Niall’s a good enough friend to diddle you, but I’m not? I’m extremely offended.”

“Harry…I don’t have to see Niall every day. It would get weird between us, and you know it.”

“I’m just saying, if you needed some help-“

“Don’t finish that sentence. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Go put yourself to bed, I’m gonna go wash up.”

“I’m assuming no cuddles tonight then?”

“You’ve assumed correctly, goodnight.”

Harry emerges from his room around ten the next morning, thankful he had the day off from work. You were sitting on the couch in the living room, coffee cup in hand while reading one of your textbooks. He sees you’ve made coffee, and he pours himself a cup.

“Morning.” He yawns as he sits next to you.

“Morning.” You say without looking at him.

“Are you mad at me for some reason? Usually you come to my room after we’ve been out like that, and you didn’t…”

“Harry, do you seriously not remember what happened last night?” He shakes his head no at you. “It just wasn’t a good night for drunk cuddles, okay? Can we leave it at that?”

“Alright.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Do you feel like going to the campus library with me in a bit? I’ve got a paper to work on, and a change of scenery would do be some good.”

“Sure! I have some mock lesson plans I need to work on so that sounds good.”

He watches you get up and go into your room so you can get ready. He sighs to himself, feeling bad for lying to you. He takes his phone out to text Niall.

Harry: I’m sorry about last night…I know I can’t control what you do and who you do it with, and clearly what I said to you didn’t matter anyways

Niall: I was going to listen…but she really wanted it, mate, I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything serious, just two friends helping each other out, alright?

Harry: alright

Niall: are you sure you don’t have feelings for her?

Harry: I just don’t think it’s smart for our little circle to comingle like that, that’s all

Niall: whatever you say

“Harry, go get dressed, the sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and watch a movie.”

“Right.” He says with a smile and gets up.

//

Harry fucked up one night. He didn’t feel like trolling on Tinder for a lay, so he found himself on Only Fans. There were a couple of pages he was subscribed to, but they just weren’t doing it for him tonight. He wanted something a little different, so, against his better judgement…he went to your page. Sometimes he’d check it out just to make sure no one was leaving you any sick comments, he never really went there to ogle you. But because you didn’t use your face, he could use his imagination a little bit. He puts his headphones in, and clicks on one of your free videos.

He smiles when he hears one of your favorite songs playing in the background. You were a skilled video editor, hoping to teach that media arts. The video fades in, and there you are, completely clothed. You start dancing, it wasn’t over sexy, but you had a way about taking your clothes off. You were doing a chair dance, one of your specialties. The video ends with you just about to take your shirt off, and then it fades out with a smirk on your lips.

“Oh, she’s good.” He says to himself.

Leaving people wanting more was certainly key on this site. He sighs, and clicks through a couple of the other free things you had on your page, and then eventually he pays to subscribe. You’d never know it was him, it’s not like he used his real name. He was more curious than anything to see what else you could have on there. He clicks through some of your photos. His jaw drops when he sees you licking a lollypop.

There’s a knock on his door, and he nearly throws his laptop across the room. He exits out of his all his tabs and closes his laptop.

“Come in!”

“Hey.” You say, leaning against the door frame.

“What’s up?” He was sweating. Had you seen that you had a new subscriber? Had you somehow figured out it was him?

“I have cramps, can I come lay with you?”

“Oh.” He sighs with relief. “Sure.” He makes some room for you on his bed, and climb on, laying on your stomach.

“What were you up to?”

“Looking for some porn to watch, to be honest with you.” He chuckles as he rubs at your lower back.

“Oh, Christ.” You laugh and nudge his leg. “You didn’t need to let me in.”

“It’s alright, you’re more interesting anyways. How was your day? Feel like I barely saw you?”

“It was good. I had a lot of work to get done so I was at the library, and then I met up with Rach for dinner.”

“How’s she?”

“Good. She’s finally starting to make some friends at work.” You sit up and move to sit on your bum. “I have a cheeky idea. Let’s find a really bad porn to watch.”

“Together?”

“Yeah! We could find a cheesy one from the seventies or something, stuff our faces with ice cream and have a good laugh.”

“I’ll go get the ice cream, you find one to watch.” He slides his laptop over to you, and gets up.

You knew his password, so you enter it in. You open up his browser, and go on incognito mode. He comes back shortly with a gallon of ice cream and two spoons.

“Okay, I think I’ve found one. Major bush on this woman, and the guy.”

“Incredible.” He laughs and hands you a spoon. “Let’s see how they did it back then. Who knows, I may learn something new.”

“God, porn back then was only made for men.” You scoff, and take a bite of the ice cream. “I mean, these women just lay there and take it! What’s the fun in that?”

“I know, I like it when the girl’s a little more involved instead of just starfishing.”

“I’m all for a guy being on top, but you really shouldn’t just lay there. There’s still plenty a girl can do. Although, I have to say, when I’m not super into it, I just lay there until the guy comes.”

“Why not just speak up and tell him to do something else?”

“At that point there’s no coming back. Besides, you know how fragile the male ego is.” You smirk at him.

“True…although, I think it’s really hot when a girl is vocal in the bedroom. If she’s telling me how she likes it then I know she knows her body, and that image alone is so satisfying.” He takes a slow bite of the ice cream to watch your face.

“It doesn’t get frustrating?”

“Not for me.” He shrugs. “I mean, I’m usually able to figure it out without much help, but I always make sure to ask if it feels good.”

“What a gentleman.” You poke his cheek and he swats it away. “I like it when a guy is vocal too, like, isn’t afraid to moan, that kind of stuff.”

“I never understood why guys are so afraid to moan. If it feels good, let it out.”

“Exactly!”

You both completely forgot you had an old porn on in the background until you heard an extremely fake moan rip through the speaker. You both laugh hysterically.

“This must’ve been before boobs jobs got popular, those are as natural as they get.” Harry laughs.

“Jesus, I know, look at those things bounce!” You laugh, and then look down at yourself, frowning.

“What?”

“Well….I have, like, bowling ball tits, like when you go candle pin bowling, is it attractive to watch big, heavy boobs like that?” You point to the screen. “And mine are kinda saggy, and-“

“Please, stop talking about yourself like that. Don’t you have, like, thousands of subscribers on your Only Fans? People clearly like the way you look.”

“They’ve never seen me naked.”

“Still.” He looks down at your covered chest. You were wearing a sweatshirt. “You…not to sound creepy, but you’ve got a great set on you. I’ve always thought so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just never said anything because I didn’t want you knowing I was checking you out.” He smirks and throw one of his pillows at him. “It’s hard not to with some of the shirts or dresses you wear to the clubs sometimes. You really know how to make yourself look sexy.”

“Oh, and I’m not sexy right now?” You chuckle.

“No, you are, it’s just a different kind of sexy. Like, you more cute than anything else, but still totally fuckable.”

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes and take another bite of ice cream. “Mm, we picked a really good flavor this week.”

“I know, way better than last week.”

“I’ve been having fun trying new flavors with you. Gives me something fun to look forward to. Is this twenty-two? Getting excited over ice cream flavors?”

“Pretty soon we’ll be excited over buying a new vacuum, or a dishrack.”

“Oh, I love a good dishrack.”

Harry bursts out laughing, and so do you. You ended up falling asleep with him in his bed, your head cradled to his chest. Harry was always the perfect cure to cramps.

//

“Oh…hello.” A girl says to you some random Wednesday morning. You were stood in your kitchen making some toast before class.

“Um, hi?”

“Oh, god, he has a girlfriend doesn’t he.” She whines.

“No! I’m Harry’s roommate. Did you spend the night, would you like some coffee?”

“Got scared for a second there. No, I’m all set thank you. Um, have a good one!” She says and leaves the flat.

“Is…is she gone?” Harry whispers from around the corner and you chuckle.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Thank god.” He sighs.

“Since when do you bring someone home with you on a Tuesday night?”

“I was working late at the coffee shop, and she was there doing homework, and one thing lead to another.” He pours himself a cup of coffee.

“And it was no good?”

“Terrible, I didn’t even ask for her number.”

“What made it so terrible?”

“She just…she wasn’t…doing it for me, I don’t know. There was no connection, Y/N.” He sighs.

“Maybe it’s time you start actually dating and work your way up to fucking someone.”

“That would involve me having to get to know someone, and I can’t stand people.” He pouts.

“Good thing you’re going to be a fucking teacher then.” You laugh. “Hurry up and get ready, or we’ll be late for class.”

Harry gets ready, and you both walk to campus for your K-12 instructors class. You were thankful to have class with Harry, you weren’t sure what you’d do without him. Just having someone to make eye contact with when someone said something stupid, or if the professor did something cringey.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hey, Daniel.” You smile up at him. “What’s up?”

“Well, I…I was wondering if you had plans this weekend? On Saturday?”

You look at Harry and he shakes his head no.

“Not that I can think of, no.”

“Great, uh, would you like to go to the movies? We could grab dinner as well.”

“I…I’d like that a lot, um, here.” You take your phone out to hand it to him. He puts his number and texts himself.

“Cool, I’ll text you later.” He moves to go sit down a few rows behind you. You look at Harry with a grin on your face.

“See, dating, it’s sorta fun.” You say to him.

“Wining and dining someone sure is a lot of effort. Don’t think I quite have it in me, but you have yourself a good time, pet.”

//

You have a wonderful time with Daniel on Saturday night. He took you to Panera, and then to see a comedy. He let you pick the movie, and you were delighted. You shared a lot of laughs, and made out with him in his car before he took you home.

“I ha d a lot of fun.” You tell him.

“Me too.” He says. “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that.” You smile and get out of his car. When you get up to your flat, you can’t wait to dish with Harry about how your night went.

“Hola chica.” He says to you from the kitchen.

“Late night tacvos, my favorite. Save me any?”

“Course, grab what you like. How was your date?”

“Really good. Daniel’s super sweet.”

“Not sweet enough to bring home?”

“I’m taking my own advice and giving dating a try. He asked me if I wanted to go out again sometime and I said yes. We did kiss for a bit, it was nice.” You shove a taco into your mouth. “Mm, you make the best tacos, Har.”

“Don’t I know it? So…so you kissed, but nothing else?” He mutters as he finishes his food.

“Nope.”

“Did you want to?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug.

“Then you shouldn’t go out with him again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you didn’t wanna rip his clothes off, it’s probably not gonna last.”

“Lust doesn’t make a relationship.”

“No, but it should be passionate. Even if you’re respectful and wait, you should still wanna fuck the person.”

“Sometimes you have to work up to feeling that way.”

“Nah, when you know, you know.” He winks at you and goes over to the couch. “I was about to watch-“

“Oh my god!” You screech.

“What?!”

“Did you not check the mail earlier?! Kevin and Ashley are getting married! This is their save the date. Holy fucking shit.”

“Makes sense, they’ve been together forever.”

“Well, we have to go, Harry.”

“Okay.” He hears you suck your teeth. “What?”

“No plus ones…”

“So? We’d just go together anyways. We can save money on a hotel room too.”

“That’s true. I just…wow, I couldn’t imagine getting married right now.”

“Like I said, when you know, you know.” He plops down onto the couch and turns the TV on. You sit down next to him. You look at him for a moment, and then turn your attention to the TV. Nothing else really needed to be said.

//

You hated it when Harry was right. Daniel was nice, but there was no spark. You went on four dates with him, and you didn’t want to fuck him.

“Hey, I was looking on the hotel website for the wedding, the room with the king sized bed is actually cheaper than the one with the two queens. That work for you?” He asks you as he comes into your room holding his laptop.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just tell me how much I need to Venmo you.”

“Will do, it’s not terribly expensive. I’ll only need a hundred bucks from you.”

“Perfect.” You take your phone and send him the money. “Thanks for booking it.”

“No problemo.” He comes in and sits on your bed. “What are you up to, babydoll?”

“Just putting some mock lesson plans together.” You sigh. “Could definitely use a break, though.” He lays down on your bed and pats the spot next to him. You roll your eyes at him, and he pouts. “Ugh, fine.” You get onto your bed with him. “Happy now?”

“Very…although….”

“What?”

“Well, you get to lay your head on my chest all the time. I’d like to do the same. Or…okay, there’s this trend on Tik Tok…could I lay down between your legs?”

“Um…like…with your head in my crotch?” You laugh. “I can put a pillow there and you can lay down if you like.”

“Okay.” You grab a pillow for him, and he gets on his back, resting his head, and looking up at you. You run your fingers through his curls and his eyes flutter closed. “I love it when you play with my hair.” He sighs.

“I knew you were coming in here with a motive. Booking the hotel room to get something out of it, huh?”

“Your nails just feel so good, and you know it.”

“Well, you better return the favor. I like getting my hair played with too.”

“I’ll touch you wherever you want me to, alright?” He yawns. “Just don’t stop for a bit.”

You brush off his crude comment, and does as he says. You liked playing with Harry’s hair, so it wasn’t a burden, and you liked when you two would just get cozy together like this. There weren’t many people you felt this comfortable with.

//

“Y/N, we need to get going down to the ceremony.” Harry calls from the bedroom of the hotel.

“Well, I wouldn’t be running behind if someone hadn’t taken twice as long as they said they would in the bathroom!”

“Can’t rush perfection, darling.” He smirks to himself.

“Mhm, so what does that make me?” You ask as you walk out of the bathroom. His mouth nearly falls open.

You had gotten your hair into a loose, low bun, with plenty of hair in the front to frame your face. You had a strapless purple dress on with black tights and black heels.

“Um…stunning, you look stunning.”

“Thanks.” You smile and grab your clutch. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” You wink at him and head out.

You both were blubbering messes during the ceremony. Rachel made sure to make fun you both for it. Once the cocktail hour hit, you were good to go. You found your table and sat down. You talked with some other friends and explained how grad school was going. You make it through the speeches and dinner, and then it’s time to dance.

Being at something like this reminded you of being at an old uni party, only more upscale. Ashley and Kevin’s families were around, so the music wasn’t exactly what you’d normally get down to, but there was an open bar that you were able to take advantage of. Partying with Harry was one of your favorite things. He always used to bring you to the best ones. A slow song starts to play, and you giggle as he bows and extends his hand to you.

“You’re an idiot.” You say as you take his hand and he pulls you close to him.

“Ah, but you’re still choosing to dance with me, babe.”

“Only cause I’m too lazy to find someone else.”

“Ha! That’ll be us someday reading vows at our won wedding. I was too lazy to find someone else, so I settled for my best friend.” He smirks at you and swat his shoulder.

“Would you be quiet? Enough of the people here think something’s going on between us as it is.”

“True.” He looks around at a few people’s wandering eyes. “Should we give them a bit of a show?” He slides his hands further down your back, getting dangerously close to your bum.

“Harry!” You squeal and giggle. “Stop it.” You grab his hands put them to their previous spot. “Just dance with me, would you?”

He chuckles and sways around with you. You both got pretty plastered. You couldn’t stop giggling with him all the way up to your room. You sigh once you get your heels off.

“Okay, I’m using the bathroom first.” You say to him.

“Fine.” He sighs and starts unbuttoning his dress shirt.

You head into the bathroom, and use the toilet. You get your tights all the way off and groan when you can’t reach the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Ugh, Harry!” You call for him. “I need your help!”

“Yeah?” He says, stepping into the bathroom in only his boxers. Nothing you hadn’t seen before.

“My zipper.”

“Oh.” He places a hand on your shoulder, and the other grips the zipper, slowly dragging it down. You clutch the front of it. “You’re not…uh…no bra?”

“No, there’s one built into the dress.” You turn around to face him. “I just need to grab my pj’s and then I’ll need a couple minutes to take my hair out.” You brush by him to go into your suitcase. He takes the opportunity to use the toilet and brush his teeth.

“Need help with anything else?” He asks as you step back into the bathroom.

“Nope, think I can handle the rest, thanks.” You giggle. “Wouldn’t mind some head scratches once I get into bed though.”

Harry gets into bed and waits for you. You come out with your hair a mess, your makeup smeared from rinsing it, and he furrows his brows at you.

“That’s my shirt.” He says as you knee onto the bed.

“Mhm, well, that’s what happens when you ask me to do your laundry for you. I steal your shirts as compensation.”

“Fair enough I suppose. Come here.”

You smile and lay on his chest so he can run his fingers through your hair. You moan softly from it as you relax into him.

“Feels so nice.” You mumble into his chest.

“I can tell.” One of his hands moves to rub your back. He mimics your moaning and you punch him in the arm. “Oi! I won’t love on you if you do that.”

“M’not asking you to love on me, I just wanted me head scratched. Be grateful you get to hear me make those noises, not everyone does.”

“Bet you’d make thousands if you posted something like that on your Only Fans.” He mutters and you move to look at him. “What?”

“Do you…ever look at my page?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“Sometimes I check your comments to see if anyone’s being rude.”

“Oh…” You swallow. “I make enough doing what I’m doing. I…I’d be too shy to do the really explicate stuff. I also just feel, like, I don’t want just anyone to see me naked, you know? That’s why I don’t go live, everyone would just ask me to take my clothes off.”

“I get that. Wanna keep it private for someone special.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’ve talked about this with you before, but there are plenty of people that are into what I post.”

“You certainly leave them wanting more.”

“You’ve…watched?”

“I’ve checked out some of the free videos you’ve posted, yeah.” He admits shamelessly. “You’re a very good dancer.” He smiles at you.

“I’m going to sleep.” You yawn and turn over. “Goodnight.” You look over your shoulder at him. “If you behave you can spoon me if you want.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Slide my prick between your ass cheeks? Grow up.” He says as he wraps his arm around you. You can’t help but laugh. “However, if I get hard while I’m sleeping you can’t get mad.”

“Suppose it’s not my fault I have such a fat, juicy ass, hm?”

“Go to sleep.” He laughs, and presses his chest to your back.

“Mm, you’re so cozy, Harry.”

“I know I am. Go to sleep, lovie.” He coos, and rubs at your side.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” He sighs and nestles into the back of your head.

//

“So…you let him spoon you all night, and nothing happened?” Rachel whispers to you at breakfast the next morning.

“Happens more often than not, it’s not a big deal.”

“You two are so fucking weird! I’ve literally never met two people who were close that do what you do. Why not just make the jump? Neither one of you can manage to make another relationship work.”

“I don’t know…I…I just don’t see him like that, and I know Harry. If he really liked me like that he’d go for it.”

“Maybe he’s just scared to fuck it up with you.”

“Exactly, so, let’s just not fuck it up and try anything.”

“What are you two hens clucking about, hm?” Harry says as he sits down, putting a cinnamon roll in front of you. “Had you favorite.”

“I’m trying to watch the carbs…” You mutter.

“Please.” He scoffs. “Would you just eat the fucking pastry? It’s good for you.”

“How is that thing good for me?” You laugh.

“It makes you happy when you eat it. You always hum and smile when you eat a cinnamon roll.”

“How sweet of you to notice.” Rachel remarks. “You’re practically her boyfriend.”

“Rachel.” You seethe, and take a bite of the pastry. You hum softly. “Why do these bloody things taste so good, huh?”

Harry chuckles and rubs the back of your neck briefly as he eats his own breakfast. He and Rachel share a glance, but that’s the extent of that interaction.

//

“Hey, Harry?” You tap on the outside of his door frame.

“Yeah, babe?” He says, taking his headphones out. It was a Friday evening and you both were doing homework. His eyes widen when he looks at you. “Your face is all flushed, are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I just…could you come look at something for me?”

“Sure.” He follows you to your room and sits with you on your bed.

“Um...could I…could I show you some new photos I took yesterday? I just finished editing them…and I’m feeling a little self-conscious.”

“Aw, why? You’re so beautiful.” He keeps your cheek and rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. “Course I’ll look ‘em over for you.”

“Thanks.” You swallow and put your laptop on his lap. “So…like usual, they’re not overly explicit, but I feel like my boobs look weird. I should have gotten something with more support.” You blush and point to the photo.

“They’re perfect, you look perfect, Y/N.” You suck your teeth at him. “You do! What else do you want me to say?”

“Okay, what about this one?”

“Perfect.”

“This one?”

“Perfect.”

“But what about this one?”

“Perfect, they’re all perfect. I don’t know why you don’t think so.” He frowns and sets your laptop down on your desk. He turns to look at you. “What’s really going on?”

“It’s just…I have all these people leaving comments saying they wish they could know me, date, fuck me…and…like I don’t know any of them! All they know about me is that I can dance, and I look cute sucking on a lollypop. I…if I wasn’t making the money I that I am I’d stop doing it because I just want someone real to say all of those things to me, you know?”

“Y/N…” Harry sighs. “I know you, I wanna date you, and I certainly want to fuck you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s so cliché it’s disgusting, isn’t it?” He smirks. “But it’s how I feel. I’m sick of tip toeing around it.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Can’t really pinpoint it, I don’t think it’s been long, but it doesn’t feel new either.”

Your eyes well up with tears, and he puts his hand back on your cheek. You lean into it. You felt deeply confused.

“I just never thought we’d…like…I just didn’t think you were into my like that.”

“Well, I am, so…what do you think? We already get along great. We like spending time together. I truthfully can’t stand other people. I think you’re the only person’s day I actually like hearing about. Have you really never thought about it?”

“I don’t know! You never made a move when we were in undergrad, with all those nights we slept next to each other, you never did anything…”

“Yeah, because you were asleep, Y/N.” He deadpans. “What did you want me to do? Feel you up while you were unconscious? Or better yet, make a move while we were both intoxicated?”

“No, of course not.” You shake your head. “I…I don’t know what I wanted. I just felt lucky that I had such a good friend.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sighs. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, this doesn’t need to be weird. Just know if you wanted to give it a try, I’d be down.”

“You’re genuinely attracted to me, like, physically?”

“Yes.” He chuckles. “And I like what you got going on up here too.” He taps your forehead with his index finger. “But you knew that already. What about me, are you physically attracted to me?”

“Well…yeah, you know you’re hot.”

“I didn’t ask you what I know.” He smirks.

“Okay, yeah, I’ve always thought you were handsome, but you used to really be a douchebag, it turned me off. Made it easier to just be your friend.” You smirk at him and he rolls his eyes.

“M’not like that anymore.” He inches closer to you. You could feel his minty breath fanning over you.

“I know.” You say just above a whisper. The mood had changed immensely. The dim lighting in your room was creating an atmosphere you had never really felt with him before.

“So…I guess the only thing left to figure out is if there’s any real heat between us.” You nod at him as his hand goes back to cradle your cheek once more. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

You move towards each other slowly, your lips gracefully pressing against each other’s. You felt scared as your eyes pinched closed. It was scary to kiss your best friend, and what was scarier was that fact that it felt so natural and seamless. He pulls away, just to see if you’ll chase him, and you do, kissing him again. You do the same to him, and he comes chasing after your soft lips.

“Harry.” You whisper as you press your forehead to his.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

“I…I wanna have sex with you.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

He cups both of your cheeks and pulls your lips back to his. His tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. He runs his lips back and forth over yours, and you open up for him. Your tongues meet, and you lick against each other, eliciting a moan from the both of you. You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lets you lift it off. Your run your hands up and down his stomach as you continue to explore each other’s mouths, lips getting puffy and swollen. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth while he unzips the sweatshirt you’re wearing. He pushes it off your shoulders, and you shimmy it the rest of the way off. He’s met with your bare breasts, and he licks his lips as he looks at them.

Harry pulls you closer to him, and his lips press against your neck. You cling to his biceps as he works his mouth down your chest. He looks up at you as he sucks on one of your nipples, rolling it between your teeth. You can’t help your head from falling back. He slides down to the floor as he continues to kiss on you. Your mouth falls open as he nips and sucks on your stomach, and his fingers hook into your leggings. He looks up at you and you nod. He tugs your leggings and underwear down your legs and gets them all the way off.

“Y/N, you’re sure?”

“Yes, I want you to, please.”

You open your legs for him, and he just about loses it from your confidence. He leans forward and kisses each of your hips. You think he’s about to go for your center, but he sucks on your inner thigh. You flinch from the sensitivity, but it feels good. You make sure to sit up on your elbows so you can watch him. He looks up at you and licks a flat stripe between your folds. He sucks on each of your lips before spreading you apart with his thumbs to focus on your clit. He sucks on it at first, harshly, and you gasp. He uses the tip of his tongue to flick back and forth against it. He runs his hands along your thighs to keep you open for him. You were clenching around nothing. His tongue was warm and wet, and everything you needed.

Your body starts to feel warm all over, you can feel your orgasm start to bubble up from within your lower belly. You let yourself fall back against the bed as you start to pant. Your voice cracks as louder moans begin to rip through your throat. He was sucking and slurping on your cunt, noises you had never heard before while someone was going down on you. And to really push you over the edge, he was moaning into you. Not little whimpers or grunts, genuine moans that were vibrating into you.

“Oh my god!” You cry out. A few tears roll down your cheeks as he continues to lap around you, helping you come down.

He kisses back up your body until he’s hovering over you. He smears his lips over yours, and you grunt, pulling him closer to you. It was the filthiest kiss of your life, completely tasting yourself on him, but you didn’t care. He just made you feel better than anyone ever did. You push him so he’ll on his back, and this time you’re the one to sink onto the floor. You get his jeans and boxers down his legs. Your eyes bug out when you see his large prick slap back against his stomach.

“Christ, Harry.”

“As if you didn’t already know.” He smirks.

“I mean, I had an idea.”

You spit into your hand and wrap it around his length. He grits his teeth as you start to slowly pump him up and down. You run his tip along your lips, and his mouth falls open. Your tongue presses over his slit and you wrap your lips around him. You suckle his tip, eliciting a moan from him. You hollow your cheeks and sink almost all the way down on him. You just wanted to feel him down your throat. You breathe your nose and just hold him there.

“Y/N.” He stutters.

You slowly pull off of him, a string of spit keeping you connected. You suck in a breath before sinking back down on him, not quite as much as you took before, and you bob up and down his length. You cup his balls and massage them as you make a mess of his prick. There was spit, drool, and precome dripping down your chin. Harry was a panting mess on the bed. His hands were gripping at the sheets, and the sight of him doing that causes you to moan. To see his veins popping out the way they were was enough to make you come again.

“Y/N, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You moan around him as his come spurts into your mouth. You swallow it all and suck him dry. He pulls you up to him, dumbfounded that you just did what you did.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you.” He breathes.

“I do, I’ve heard you have pretty good stamina.” You peck his lips. “I’m sure you’ll get hard again soon.”

He groans and shifts his thighs between your legs, making you gasp. He grips your hips and starts moving you back and forth along his tiger tattoo. Your nails dig into his chest as you work to grind against him.

“H-Harry.” You mewl.

“Yeah, ride my fucking leg, baby, show me how you do it.”

“God.”

“I want you so bad, I wanna fuck you so bad, Y/N.”

“Oh, oh!” You come undone on his thigh. You lean down and press your lips to his, licking into his mouth. Before you know it he’s moving you up his body, turning you around, and licking back into your cunt. “Shit!”

He’s relentless with you, fucking you with his tongue, telling you to bounce up and down on him, and you listen. He sucks on your clit again, and you fall forward, head resting on his thigh. You watch as his cock bloats back up. You’d never know someone to enjoy doing this so much. You kiss on his thigh because you just needed to do something with your mouth. He makes you come again, and he lifts you off of his face.

“Think you can keep going?” He smirks as your head falls back against your pillows.

He grabs your legs and pushes them back so your knees press against the bed. He lifts your bum enough to rest on his thighs, and he dips his tongue back into your cunt. This was some serious teasing. You watch as his tongue goes in and out of you, deeper each time. He reaches forward with one of his hands to rub your clit. It was throbbing for him.

“Harry, please.”

“What, no good?”

“No, it’s amazing, but…I really wanna feel your dick now, please, I know you’re hard again.”

“You just taste so good.” He brings his mouth down to your cunt and sucks on it.

“This won’t be the only time I’ll let your head between my legs, I promise.” You let your legs drop back to lay normally. He sits back as you look at each other. “When was the last time you were tested? I…I’m clean, and if you are too, I’d prefer not to use a condom if you feel comfortable with that.”

“STD test came back negative a month ago when I went in for a checkup. You’re on the pill?”

“Yeah.”

He leans down to kiss you, and then he pulls back to paint his cock with your wetness that was uncontrollably leaking out of you for him. He presses his tip against your clit, and slides it down your slit. He pushes inside you slowly. He fills you to the hilt, and waits. For a moment he just wants to enjoy how tight and snug you are around him. You push your hips up and start rocking against him.

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re so fucking perfect.”

“Because I’m moving myself on you?” You giggle.

“I just think it’s cute that you’re so goddamn impatient.”

“Would you just shut up and show what you can do with this thing? Or am I gonna have to do all of this myself?”

He accepts the challenge, pulling his hips back, and snapping them forward. You reach behind yourself to press against the headboard so your head doesn’t smack against it. He drives it into you fast and deep. He pushes you to the brink of coming, but he pulls all the way out of you. Before you can complain he flips you over, and grabs your hips. He pulls you back to him and slips back inside. You moan out from the new angle, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours makes your eyes roll back. He gives your bum a light smack and you grunt.

“You can do that a little harder, a little.” You didn’t want him to fully spank you, you weren’t into that sort of thing, but you didn’t mind feeling it a little more. He delivers a harsher smack and you groan again.

“You have the best ass I’ve ever seen.” He smacks you again and you grip onto the pillows. He grips the back of your neck to get a steadier pace going, and he uses his other hand to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Harry. You’re so attentive.” You manage to say. You felt like you could barely breathe.

“I’m gonna ruin you for any other guy.”

“Don’t want any other guy.” You admit. “I don’t want anyone else to fuck me.”

“Christ.” He moans.

His fingers move faster on your clit, and his tip pounds against your g-spot, and you’re coming. You’re coming hard around him. He pulls out and sits up against the headboard. You look up at him, completely frazzled.

“I want you ride me.”

“Okay.” You breathe. You shuffle around and swing your leg over him. You line him up with yourself and sink down on him.

He fondles your breasts as you move up and down on him. He kisses on your chest as you get a rhythm going. He leans back just to watch your tits bounce up and down. He looks up at you and grips you by the back of your neck to pull your mouth down to his. You breathe each other in and out as you moan and gasp. He takes control by gripping your hips, and you cling to him to let him just do what he wanted with you. You tighten around him and his head falls back for a moment.

“Where can I come?” He asks.

“Where do you want to come?”

“Inside you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He grunts.

You cry out as he does when he comes. You don’t think you had ever felt so full in your life. He kisses you as you both catch your breaths. You tug at his hair, and grind against him. You were close to coming again. He takes the hint and snakes his hand between you both and rubs your clit. Your orgasm rips through you, and you moan into his neck.

“I’m so fucking sweaty.” You whisper.

“Do you wanna take a shower?”

“Yeah.” You look up at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do I still have legs? Because I can’t feel them.”

He puffs out some air as he laughs, smoothing some hair away from your face.

“Yes, you still have legs, Y/N. Should I carry you to the bathroom?”

“Please, I really need to pee.”

He kisses your forehead and slowly lifts you off of him. You clench so nothing falls out. You didn’t want to make a bigger mess of your bed.

“We can sleep in my room and wash your sheets tomorrow, don’t worry about that.” He says as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom.

He sets you down on the toilet and steps out to give you some privacy. Once he hears the water for the shower start he comes back in. He splays a hand on your back and gives you a gentle rub before you both step in. You felt overwhelmed. You just had the best sex of your life with your very best friend. As he reaches for his body wash you swat his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Would you…would you just hold me?” Your bottom lip quivers, and he pulls you into his chest.

You nestle into him, and just stand under the warm water with him. He cradles your head and lets you cry into him. He starts to cry too, although he’s not really sure why.

“I don’t want anything to get fucked up between us, Harry.” You look up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I love you so much, and I don’t want something bad to happen that’ll make us hate each other.”

“M’not gonna let that happen.” He wipes your tears away, and then wipes away his own. “We’re gonna do this right. We’ll go out on dates, and we’ll see where it goes, and I hope it goes well because I love you too, and I value so many of the things we have with each other.”

You each take turns scrubbing each other down, getting clean. It’s soothing, and calming. You both relax, and get wrapped up into some towels. You run the blow dryer through your hair quickly just so it’s not sopping wet. He gives you one of his bed shirts to wear, and you crawl into bed with him. Being immersed in his scent was exactly what you needed. You rest your head on his chest, and he throws his arm around you.

“When was the last time you actually dated someone?” You ask softly.

“Um…think I was sixteen to be honest with you.”

“Ah, so a while.” You chuckle.

“You literally know my entire sexual history, and I know yours, let’s not pretend we’re both experts with all this.”

“So…we’ll just make this up as we go? I mean, I like that we sleep together sometimes, but I wanna keep my room, I don’t wanna move into the same room.”

“Christ, slow down, we just got together and you’re already talking about moving into the same bedroom?” You swat at his chest and he laughs, kissing the top of your head. “In all seriousness, I feel the same way, I think we should still have our separate spaces. You get pissed off with me easily.”

“Maybe you should try not to piss me off then.”

“Well, now that I know you enjoy a good tonguing, I’m not really worried about it. God, we can make up from a fight with sex instead of watching Dirty Dancing, it’s gonna be incredible.”

“Can…can we not do both?” You look up at him. “I love singing Hungry Eyes with you.”

“Yeah, both is good.”

“And I wanna make sure we clarify what are dates, and what’s just hanging out. I want dates to feel…special, I don’t know.”

“Can do. I think study dates at the library are gonna be my favorite.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I can rile you up. I’ll sit across from you to play footsie, and then I’ll run my foot up your leg. I’ll make eyes at you. You’ll end up blowing me in the bathroom, it’ll be great.”

“Mm, yes, well, what if my leg’s the one doing the rubbing? I could probably make you come in your pants from my foot on your crotch alone.”

“Okay, no study dates. You know what I would really like, though?”

“What?”

“Sometimes…sometimes I really miss you when I work double shifts at work, and then I feel bad because you’re here all by yourself…so maybe you could come to the coffee shop more? Hang out, do homework, I’ll give you free food.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal to me.” You bite your bottom lip. “You’re not gonna ask me to give up my Only Fans are you?”

“What? No, why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know…you’re the jealous type, Harry.”

“True…but if that’s what you wanna do for work, I don’t have a problem with it. Can I tell you a dirty secret?”

“Always.”

“I’m subscribed to your page.”

“You are?!”

“Yeah…I’ve never wanked to your stuff because I feel like that would be creepy, but I do keep up with what you post.”

“I’m not gonna do it forever, once I get a real job I won’t need it…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, babe. Even if you were doing the really filthy stuff, I wouldn’t care. That’s your business.”

“God, if I wasn’t so tired I’d hop on your dick again.”

He chuckles at that and gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“Any other questions?”

“I don’t think so. Although, I’m not looking forward to telling Rachel. The it’s about time or I told you so is not gonna be fun.”

“Same with Niall and Louis. We just gotta rip the band aid.”

You hum your response and get a little cozier by putting one of your legs over his. It was easy enough to fall asleep. You talked, so you weren’t worried about your friendship ending. If anything, it was all going to get better. Being able to kiss and touch on top of how you were with each other already was just the cherry on top. It didn’t happen over drinks, it didn’t happen in a club, and it didn’t happen by mistake. This was on purpose. He was the person you were supposed to be with, and he felt the same way.

[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.

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Show Them I’m Yours

A/N: Everyone knows there ain’t no party like a SAMCRO party. Imagine you’re Jax Teller’s girl and you want everyone to know, so he savagely takes you at one of those parties and puts on a hell of a show. (@itsme-autumn suggested that I write this and I was like um hell fucking yes)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, sex with an audience (Jax owning your ass and showing off that fact in front of all the Sons – they all get to watch but ONLY JAX can touch), featuring gifs of pretty much everyone

Word Count: ~2.9k

“Excuse me, sir?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. Appalled at the audacity of what this stupidly attractive bastard just dared to suggest. “No, I did not fuck up my car on purpose.”

The Prince of Charming smirks at that, hands on his hips, tongue flicking out between his suckable pink lips. “You sure about that, princess? Third time in a week that you’ve come by to get it serviced...”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping track?” you sass back at him, flattered as fuck that he has, though your pride demands hiding that fact. Of course you’ve been screwing around with your engine all week just to have an excuse to hit up Teller-Morrow and check out his ass, to be honest. But fuck him for calling you out on it. “You’re not even the one who fixes shit. My visits here are not your business, and I’m not your fucking princess.”

His leather-clad shoulders lift up in a shrug, like he couldn’t care less. “Suit yourself. Name’s Jax,” he says with another long drag of his cigarette. “Jax Teller. Knew a stuck-up little bitch like you would be too proud to ask.”

Fucking shit. He knows you well. And hearing him call you a bitch just got you wetter than you would like to admit; you hope to hell that he can’t tell. “Maybe this stuck-up bitch just isn’t fucking interested.”

You flip him off and drive away—your car is really functioning just fine, needless to say—but you’re inevitably back by sex-o’-clock the very next day.

It’s been barely a month since you first moved to Charming, and you’re still not really used to feeling so damn new. It’s honestly alarming, just how shamelessly the men around town gawk at you. Don’t even seem to realize that it’s rude. You’re well aware you’re super cute, but till you moved here, you had never felt so... coveted. So viewed.

Nowhere more so than right here at Teller-Morrow. Home of the infamous biker club known as SAMCRO. The way the crew here always ogles you like heaven’s gift to men is quite a big boost to your ego.

“Know what I think, darlin’?” Jax taunts, sauntering toward your car as you pull in. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing. Know that every man in Charming wants a piece of that sweet ass.”

“Well, Mr. Teller...” you step out of the driver’s seat, standing to face him, close enough to feel his heat. “This ass ain’t up for grabs.”

Jax takes that as a challenge: as an open invitation, as he should. Slowly moves closer, feeding all your deepest hungers—God, he smells so fucking good—then wraps one hand around your back, the other sliding toward your ass... to show you just how wrong you were. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

Jesus Christ—you want this man to fuck you up against your car, savage and hard, right fucking now... but he has something else in mind. Invites you to a party tonight, at the SAMCRO clubhouse. Who are you to deny?

He approaches his crew, as you drive away, fading from view. All the Sons stand in awe of their President—stunned that he just fucking conquered you.

“Dude, you gonna hit that?” Juice effuses, unable to hide his excitement. “Hot damn...”

Jax Fucking Teller stands tall like the king that he is and has always been, flashing his signature cocky grin. “Hell yeah I am.”

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

You have no clue what you are about to walk into. Of course you were shameless enough to choose your most provocative outfit: a skimpy excuse for a dress that covers very little of you, paired with your favorite fuck-me-now shoes. Jax had offered to pick you up from where you live, the Prince Charming he is—but as much as you’d kill for a ride on his Harley, you wanted to ride on your own dime, show up at your own time, keep up the illusion that you’re in control of your shit. You’re all decked out and ready to go nice and early, but hold off on heading out yet—figure you should play hard to get, keep the guy waiting a bit.

Your self-restraint lasts for a solid two minutes. 

There’s no hope of fighting how desperate you are for his dick. The thong that you’re wearing is made of some thin flimsy lace, so your pussy is leaking all over the place, and the seat of your car is all sticky and slick. That’s real fucking classy, Y/N, you think, quite ashamed of the nasty-ass slut you’re becoming.

By the time you arrive, every cell in your barely-dressed body feels so damn alive at the thought of Jax taking you home once the party is over and railing you all fucking night...

You don’t yet know it then, but waiting till the party is over is not what Jax Teller intends. No, you’re gonna get fucked good and hard long before it all ends.

Parking your car outside, you try and fail to steady your nerves with a long horny sigh as you shut off your engine. Preparing yourself for whatever is coming tonight. Finally stepping out, struggling to pull off a smooth sexy strut as you head toward the clubhouse. All right. Let the party begin.

From the second you walk in, you feel downright soaked in pure sin. All you can see are half-naked strangers slobbering all over each other, bodies pressed together, a blur of sweat-slick skin and old worn-out leather. The place stinks of sex, smoke and liquor, and you couldn’t possibly feel any sicker. Oh God, this is straight up disgusting—fuck this shit, you think, regretting having ever decided to come...

But before you can turn and head straight out the door, you lay eyes on the king, and remember exactly why you had accepted the invitation into his fucking kingdom. And all of a sudden your senses go numb and your slutty ass feels... right at home.

“There you are,” he greets you with a ravenous growl in his voice that resounds over all of the noise. “Now the party’s about to start. Glad that I got you to come, sweetheart.”

The gorgeous motherfucker’s lips curve up into a smirk, as he utters that sinful little word, and it has got to be the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard.

“Don’t get too cocky, Jax,” you tease him back, as his piercing blue eyes devour your entire figure, clearly pleased to see that you’re practically naked. “Still gonna have to work at that... I haven’t come just yet.”

He snickers, lustfully biting his lip as he reaches around you to grab at your ass through your dress, rendering you a dripping mess just at the touch of his fingers. “No, but already soaking wet, I bet.”

Oh God, yes... those are the only words that come into your head, a silent gasp for air, as his big strong frame slams you up against the nearest wall and holds you there, one hand upon your ass now as the other tangles roughly in your hair.

“Darlin’, you got any clue just how bad I’ve been wanting to fuck you?” he snarls, breathing heated against your skin, making your pussy clench and your toes curl. “You know, ever since this fine ass came to town... all those times you would come around... Christ, all I’ve wanted to do... is just pin you the fuck down... and show the whole fucking world who you belong to. Claim you as my dirty girl.”

Every word from his mouth has you spiraling down into some sort of sex-drunk submissive daze. Lost in a haze, everything else around you fades... until you realize, in a split second, that you and Jax are the focus of literally everybody’s gaze. Looking over his shoulder at the whole rest of the room, you are beyond surprised to find all fucking eyes on you and him. You feel the blood drain from your face. This seems like honestly too much to take—and yet you can’t deny, something about the spectacle of all of this has got you feeling... well, some kind of way...

“Yeah, they’re all watching, babe,” Jax devilishly taunts, reading your mind, lips on your neck and hands groping your tits and God that feels fucking divine. “Like the attention? Kinky little thing, I know it turns you on. What’d’ya say we fuck in front of them and give ‘em what they want?”

It’s not as if you have a choice, when Jax Teller is talking in that motherfucking mouthwatering voice. At this point you are nothing but his filthy fucking toy.

Now that your fate has been sealed as exactly that, he’s gonna give you the most epic sex you’ve ever fucking had.

Handling you like a damn rag doll, Jax swiftly shifts off of the wall, then throws you down over a pool table conveniently nearby, with your back pressed against the surface as he stands between your open thighs and effortlessly rips your dress to shreds. Strips off your thong next, tattered lace lost in a heap down on the floor between your legs. The look on his breathtakingly beautiful face with every move he makes is just pure fucking sex. 

And just like that, here in a room packed full of people most of whom you’ve never met, you are stark fucking naked, legs spread, soaking wet and loving every goddamn minute since apparently you’re seriously fucked up in the head.

Staring straight up into his blazing bright blue eyes, as he so proudly claims you as his prize, you’ve never felt so damn alive. But also dead.

“Mmm, look at that...” he hums, teasing your wet cunt with a cruel flick of his thumb. “Who fucking owns this pretty pussy, hmm? This nice tight ass you got?”

Oh, God—how is it even possible for everything he says and does to be so fucking hot...? Though you can barely speak, needy and weak, you know this bastard has demanded that you answer. So you tell him what is so painfully true. “You do, Jax. All you.”

He growls in pleasure, and you couldn’t possibly get any wetter. You’re officially the property of Jackson Fucking Teller. And he wants to hear you say it, which is just about the hottest fucking thing ever. “Tell ‘em, whore. Tell the whole room who fucking owns you. Wanna hear you tell ‘em who.”

And so you do. The words fall freely from your open mouth. You say it loud and proud. “Jax Fucking Teller owns my ass.”

The room responds with raucous shouts and cheers, resounding in your ears. You barely even notice, though, because now Jax has started stripping off his clothes—everything’s happening so fast—and as you lay eyes on his downright godlike body you are not sure just how much longer your slipping grip on sanity can last. He hasn’t even taken out his cock yet, but the moment that he does... you’re pretty sure you won’t even be conscious anymore.

So you form words, while you still can, beholding this god of a man. “Want you to show ‘em, Jax. Please. Show off how you own me. Fuck me like just what I am, your dirty little whore. Show them I’m yours.”

Jax doesn’t need to be asked twice. Next thing you know his massive cock is finally free, the fucking perfect piece of meat standing so tall and proud and hard between his strong muscular thighs, and he wastes no damn time at all giving exactly what you need. He takes a firm hold of your knees to spread your legs out even wider to receive everything that he has to give... and then he drives his cock inside you in one swift soul-crushing thrust and Jesus Christ, as every fiber of your being dies, you realize that until this moment you had never truly lived.

You barely register anything else that’s happening around you, but on some level you do. It’s even hotter knowing just how much the whole crew is enjoying this amazing fucking view.

“God, that’s so fucking hot...” Juice mutters from his front row spot, stupidly hoping no one else will notice as he scrapes your tattered thong off of the floor and stuffs it quickly in his pocket.

Tig snickers loudly from where he’s standing nearby. “You little pervert. We all saw that.”

Juice points his finger at the guy. “Pervert? Seriously? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black...”

In the meantime, none of that got past the king. Jax doesn’t miss a thing, and he’s possessive of his property, beyond belief. He promptly shoots a sharp glare at the thong thief. “Think you can try and take what’s mine? I’m gonna be needing that back.”

The look on Juice’s face, at that... you cannot help but laugh, and have a little pity. Something about this whole dynamic with the audience around you has restored a little sanity and dignity, and you’re able to string words together, even while you’re still getting completely fucked to pieces by Jax Teller. 

“Aw, let him have it, Jax. Poor guy’s just picking up scraps. You’re the one who still owns my whole ass.”

Chiming in with his distinctive accent, Chibs echoes your laugh with an approving clap. “Now would ya look at that. So generous! Jackie Boy, you got yourself there one hell of a lass.”

You smile at him with a playful wink as Jax keeps pushing deeper in, his cock seemingly harder with every thrust, bigger the farther it sinks. “Fuck yeah, he does. You jealous?”

“Aye, as if you have to ask...”

Jax doesn’t like it when you spend more than two seconds with your eyes on anybody else. Although he knows no one’s an actual threat, that fact still doesn’t change how possessive he gets. He takes his hands off of your legs now to powerfully grab your head, keeping your face in place just where he wants it, your gaze fixed on him alone as he keeps fucking you dead.

You can still hear the chorus of indistinct voices:

“Fuck her up!”

“Own that slut!”

“Pound that pussy, Pres!”

And so he does, making you moan and beg him for more, spouting out filth like a two-dollar whore, as his huge monster cock brings you closer and closer to climax. “Fuck yes—Jesus Christ, holy fucking shit—destroy me with that dick—God, you’re so big—fuck, Jax...!”

It feels like you’re about to burst. Happy, for one, seems to want that to happen. He’s more into the action than the words. “Just shut her up and fuck her harder. Till it hurts.”

You didn’t think that it would be humanly possible for Jax to fuck you any harder than he has been, in these past however many fucking minutes... but apparently it is. And the mind-blowing pain that it causes is pure fucking bliss. All of a sudden he picks up the pace, hips ramming into you so hard the table seems about to break, grunting and groaning out with every move he makes and leaning down to suck the screams out of your mouth, drilling deeper into every inch of your body and drowning you in his delicious taste as he devours your face.

Fuck if that’s not a one-way ticket straight to subspace.

Although your consciousness is all but gone, you try to stay afloat now as Jax pulls back from the kiss to ask one last question. “Who owns this fucking cunt?”

You couldn’t give less of a shit just how insane you sound right now. You’re honestly just proud that you can speak English somehow. “You own this cunt! You own my whole entire ass! You fucking own me, Jax! You... fucking... unghhhh...”

The whole entire room knows what’s about to happen. And as you come undone, some part of you can hear them jeering, cheering, every one of them so damn proud and supportive of their king... 

But for the most part you can only hear and see and feel one thing: Jax Fucking Teller all around you, deep inside you, splitting you right fucking open, filling you up with his white hot cum until it feels as if your whole goddamn existence served the sole purpose of leading up to this one perfect moment, to this epically earth-shattering explosion...

There is no better feeling in the world than being owned by him. You know it now, and so does everybody in this room. Damn did he show them. Just as you had asked. Jax Fucking Teller went off and did that. Showed off ow utterly and undeniably he owns your whole entire fucking ass.

You end up spending just a few more lazy minutes making out, tongues halfway down each other’s throats. “Mmmm, glad that I got you to come, Y/N,” he gloats, again, smirking in smug satisfaction now that the task is finally done.

But the night is still young. So you tell him. “Well, Teller—you should know that your dirty girl has three fuckable holes... and you’ve only fucked one.”

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

Thank you for reading!!! Writing this was TOO MUCH FUN. Hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

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[brutal-nemesis]

E&T-Caring For Your Tiny Test Subject

Welp. (⓿ ◡ ⓿) I made more. Maybe real content will resume soon, but until then...tiny Erebus

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: noncon partial stripping/nudity, noncon touching (unsexy)

“You know,” Neteri mused as she turned Erebus over in her hand, “you’re kind of filthy from your little adventure. Maybe I should-”

“No-”

“Yeah.” She tightened her grip as Erebus squirmed, looking down at him with a devilish grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up, lil guy.”

“I-I can do that myself Neteri you don’t need to-”

“I do need to because it will be so absolutely adorable.”

“That’s the dumbes-” Erebus’s protest was silenced as she placed one of her fingers over his mouth. He glared at her, debating biting her for a moment. She’d only have herself to blame if he drew blood...still, the last thing he needed was for his situation to get any worse. As per usual, Neteri was going to get what Neteri wanted and he’d just have to suffer through it. Even so, this...this was not going to be easy. Already, an awful feeling was stirring in his gut at imagining her…bathing him. He shuddered, trying to just put it out of his mind for now.

Once they got back to her office, Neteri plopped him back into the jar and screwed on the lid before taking him back to his cell. She set the jar on the desk and crouched down to his level. “I’m going to go get everything I need, and then I’ll be back, so you just chill until then, okay?” Erebus just quietly nodded from where he was seated with his arms wrapped around his folded legs. He tried to take deep breaths once he was alone, trying not to let himself get freaked out before it even started.

He would be fine. Neteri was always gentle with him as long as he was cooperative, so he wasn’t too worried about this experience hurting. He was far more worried about how much she was going to be touching him, about how exposed he was going to be, about how helpless he was going to feel. Not that he wasn’t already helpless right now, stuck inside a glass jar, but there was a whole new level of powerlessness in being held tightly in her hand. When he’d been his real size, he could always take comfort in his significant height advantage over her, the vague idea that he could easily overpower her if he tried. But now, she could do whatever she wanted with him with just her bare hands, and there was nothing he could do to fight back.

By the time she had returned with a relatively shallow bowl and a large cup, he had steeled himself for what was about to occur. Still, when she reached her hand in the jar, he pressed himself back against the glass, because he didn’t want this. “You’ll be alright little guy, the water’s nice and warm for you.”

“T-that’s not what I-hey! I can take that off mysel-”

“I’m sure you can,” Neteri said as she pulled his shirt off over his head, his struggles doing absolutely nothing to slow her down. “But this is more fun.”

“Not for me.”

“Who owns who here, Erebus? Now stop wiggling or I might take off more than your pants, and neither of us want that.” Erebus grumbled but stopped trying to resist, feeling his face flush at her bare hands against his skin. She poured some of the water from the cup into the dish before gently setting him down in it. He felt himself relax despite everything; the water did feel good and it’d been so long since he’d had a bath. Probably not since...since he’d lost everything. Maybe this would be alright…

Yeah, it felt sort of nice as she poured the warm water over his head with a thimble and started to wash his hair with two of her fingertips. He leaned into her touch just a bit-no no no wait this was Neteri she’d shrunk him and this was humiliating he wasn’t supposed to enjoy it, and even if he did, there was no way he’d let her catch on to it. He put on his best glare and hugged his knees close to his chest. Neteri laughed. “You always look so cute when you’re angry, but now that you're tiny it’s even cuter! You’re just perfect like this, huh?” She tilted his chin up, and he tried to turn away, but she forced him back. “Keep your head tilted back, I’m going to rinse your hair and I don’t want it to get in your eyes.”

“Fine.” She was always so unfairly tender with him, and part of him wished she would be rougher, that she would stop making it so hard to hate this. Even when she pried his arms away from his legs and forced him to uncurl so she could wash the rest of him, she was never anything but gentle. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately? He wasn’t sure), the feeling of her fingers scrubbing his body ended up being more uncomfortable and invasive than nice, and it was easier for him to hate it. 

And he...he hated it, really hated it, so much so that he didn’t know how much more he could take, because he just wanted her hands off of him, not all over his bare skin, over all of his scars, at the same time. Erebus tried to squirm away, but there was firmness behind Neteri’s gentle grip, rendering his attempts futile. He was just as helpless as he had feared being, and he could hardly bear it. She was almost done, she had to be, she’d gotten just about everywhere and he wasn’t sure if his face could get any redder, if the awful feeling in his stomach could get any worse.

He fought back an audible sigh of relief as she started rinsing him off, glad that this experience was almost over. Once she was done, Neteri slid her thumb under his chin, tilting it up. “There, you’re all clean now.” She stared at him a moment more, stifling a laugh. “You’re all embarrassed it’s so adorable. I do wish I could keep you like this.”

“You’d better not-”

“No, no, I can’t, that would use up far too much of my magic power, shrinking you every day. And doing procedures on your tiny little body would be way more difficult and not worth it at all. But, a girl can dream,” she sighed. He rolled his eyes, relishing the fact that she’d have no idea that he did it. She released him, looking around on the desk. “I forgot to get a towel for ya; let me go grab one from your bathroom.” 

Erebus eyed the edge of the bowl as soon as she turned around. The sides weren’t that steep, and he could probably climb them, which would earn him a little moment of freedom, not stuck inside anything or held back by her giant hands. He stood and sloshed towards the edge, deciding it would be best to just try to crawl up the sloped sides. He stepped out of the soapy water, feeling confident enough in his first step that he immediately tried to take another, trusting all of his weight to his foot on the sloped side of the bowl.

A mistake he soon paid for. 

Still coated in soapy residue, his foot slipped on the smooth surface of the bowl, and his forehead immediately slammed into the ceramic. He managed to catch himself before his face slid into the water, and he just stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, staring at his reflection in the water as his head throbbed. Of course he couldn’t even escape from a bowl. Of course. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away as Neteri returned.

“What was that sound, Erebus? You okay?” she asked as she picked him up, examining him.

“It was nothing. I’m fine.” He crossed his arms, hoping she’d just drop it.

But this was Neteri, who rarely dropped it, and seemed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing. “I dunno bud, you have a lil red spot on your forehead. Did you-” a mischievous grin spread across her face, “did you try to climb out and hit your head?”

“I-so what if I did? It doesn’t matter.” He looked away as she laughed, his face once again burning an unfair amount.

“It does matter ‘cause that is the cutest thing, oh you poor little dear.” She ruffled his hair with one of her fingertips before picking up the cup of clean water. “Alright, close your eyes while I rinse you off one last time.” When she was done, she set him down on the towel she had brought over and got to work drying him off. He let her, just wanting this whole thing to be over with. The towel felt so much rougher now that he was small...that was another thing he missed about home, how soft the towels always were. His sheets and pillows had always been so comfortable, too...he missed his father and everyone, of course, but sometimes he couldn’t help but think about all of the little things. 

Once he was dry, Neteri dropped him back in the jar before throwing a set of small, clean clothes on top of him. “Here, I shrunk those for you, and I think I was able to do it so they’ll get big when you do like your other clothes shrunk with you the first time. Just let me know when you’re done.” She held out her hands to cover the side of the jar facing her, eyes squeezed shut for good measure. 

“You’re good, Neteri,” Erebus called once he’d gotten changed. “Are you going to leave me alone now?”

“Absolutely I will not.” She picked up the jar, holding him at her eye level. “You are at your most cutest ever in the world and I want to be here for every second of it.” Her stomach growled. “Also I have just realized that I forgot about food and neither of us have eaten since this morning and it is definitely past lunchtime so I am going to go get us some food.” She grinned as she set the jar down. “I can give you tiny food oh I’m so excited!” She dashed out the door, calling “I’ll be right back!”

Erebus couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to get something to eat, but he could do without the way Neteri watched him the entire time, occasionally gasping at stupid things like him ripping off part of the chunk of bread she’d given him. She’d shrunk most of his food, so he ate it like normal, but for some reason she tore off a piece of her normal sized flatbread and gave it to him, and there was no way he was just going to bite into something so big. He’d lost a lot of his dignity over these past few months, but he still wasn’t a savage. Besides, she was making him drink out of a thimble, which was demeaning enough. 

She put him back in the jar while she took care of their plates and cleaned up from bathing him. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what stupid thing she had planned next. It would be foolish to assume she wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day bothering him and teasing him and holding him in her hands, since she’d made it very clear how much she was enjoying this. Nothing would be worse than the bath, though. He hoped. 

Once she returned, Neteri picked him up from inside the jar and just stared at him intently. Erebus narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just trying to decide what to do with you next.”

“You could put me down.”

“Or I could hold you in my hand forever.”

“No.”

“I think I will do that.” She sat down on his bed and laid back, pressing Erebus against her chest, her hand on his back pinning him down on his stomach. His wiggling was, as always, completely useless. He sighed, trying to make himself comfortable and pretending he was just lying on a bed or something. Neteri rubbed her thumb soothingly up and down his back, and soon enough he...found himself...getting tired...

~~~

Neteri resisted the urge to jump up in delight as she watched little Erebus fall asleep on her chest. She’d just wanted to lay down and hold his tiny body for a few minutes, but she’d expected him to struggle longer or glare at her the whole time, not take a nap. Not that it was unwelcome, not at all, he was so precious like this, and there was no way she’d move until he woke up. She continued stroking his back, smiling down at her little test subject. 

She was going to enjoy every moment she had left while he was small.

Tags: @as-a-matter-of-whump @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpasaurus101 

[monster-bait]

Deep Space pt 2—Return Mission; F Human x Android, NSFW

The first leg of the mission had been a complete success.

The Cormorant had reached her rendezvous point; the ship restocked with provisions for the long journey home, data shared with your peers at the space station on Delta Twelve. Now it was time to leave, to venture back into deep space, to collect new data and care for the fragile plant life you’d be transporting back to Earth from Delta Twelve.

...Plants, and other things.

The orders had come down while the Cormorant was docked, that the return trip would not be solitary, as the front end of the mission had been. Dr. Wilkes was a mission specialist, had been working on the space station for a fair bit of time, flying in on a previous mission, and now she would be joining your journey home.

You still weren’t sure how you felt about the change in plans.

When the order had come through, you’d been frozen over the thought of being stuck on board with a male astronaut; of what could happen. Horror stories of long-ago missions with subordinates who resented female commanders swirling in your head...but the Cormorant’s newest passenger was a confident-bordering-on-cocky young woman with sandy, shoulder-length hair and a confident smile. Your relief must have been palpable as she met you on the tarmac, saluting before nodding to the ship.

“She’s a beauty. Looks like you all held up very well on the trip in...don’t worry, Commander. I’m only interested in getting home in one piece. I was relieved when they assigned me a seat here. Beta Twelve was turning into a real sausage fest.”

You tried to push your tension away as you boarded the ship. Your ship. You needed complete focus on the task at hand, as leaving Beta Twelve’s orbit was one of the most dangerous parts of the return mission; needed a clear head and unfocused mind…

“Birdie, let’s get out of here,” you said in a voice far more cheerful than what you felt, as your new passenger buckled in.

“Auxiliary power has been moved into the thrusters, Commander. Airlock is secure, downlink has been sent. We can begin the procedural checks at your command.”

The android’s smooth voice put you instantly at ease, as it always did. Birdie had been your only companion for all of these long months and having a newcomer there now, interrupting your easy routine, set you on edge. You had a certain way you liked to structure the day, training and lab work and meals, and now there would be someone else to consider before you took over the lab, before you entered the ship’s small gym. You had a feeling your days of opening your legs from your workbench to be orally pleasured by the android each afternoon before lunch were coming to an end. You’ll just have to take Birdie to your bunk. For now though, all of that could wait.

“On top of things as always, Birdie. Let’s begin the checks.”

.

.

The first few days passed without incident. Time passed strangely in space. You’d discovered that back on your first mission, and the importance of keeping a schedule, of marking the days and hours and accounting for yourself was essential to one’s sanity. There was work to do, and true to her word, your passenger largely kept to herself when you weren’t working together in one of the labs or passing each other coming or going from the mess. You were keenly aware of the days, of the hours, ensuring your rotations were completed like clockwork, that the Cormorant’s maintenance schedule was uninterrupted and that everything was, so to speak, smooth sailing.

You, therefore, knew that it had been exactly at 22:42 on the sixth day of the return trip when you’d heard the noises.

Your suppositions on that very first day had come to fruition: Dr. Wilkes kept to herself, yet she was still always there, and you’d not gone so long without achieving some sort of physical completion in months. There was a constant burning ache between your thighs, a desperation you’d not possessed a mere week earlier, and you knew you’d not be able to wait another day before finding relief.

Birdie had accompanied you back to your bunk after your evening meal that night; had lain between your legs once you’d stripped out of your jumpsuit and brought you to a swift, satisfying release with their robotic mouth, that incredibly life-like tongue knowing exactly how you liked to be licked. You’d kept their head pressed there, thrusting your hips upward as it tongued your clit expertly until a second, deeper orgasm shuddered through you, the days worth of tension melting away as your legs shook. Birdie didn’t need to be told to climb over your body, the number two distending with a click and a whir, fucking you into the mattress until you were nearly sobbing with relief. You’d fallen asleep almost immediately after the cock withdrew from your body, your sex still tingling from your climax.

You’d woken up feeling groggy and out of sorts after the evening activities, unused to sleeping so early, and in desperate need of something to drink; had been sipping from a silicone tumblr of water when you’d heard it.

Panting breath, punctuated by grunts, and the occasional outburst of sound.

You’d immediately gone on the defensive. Could it have been a lifeform, something that had been smuggled in by one of the alien plants growing in the laboratory greenhouse? Some of the carnivorous pitcher plant-like blooms could have easily held something unseen in their blooms...but how had it not been detected? An animal would have registered on the ship's monitor system, and Birdie would have been aware of an additional organism immediately...your feet had carried you closer to the source of the sound, the hallway just beyond the laundry, and you hovered outside the small room.

It did not take you long to realize the truth of the situation.

You’d watched from the edge of the doorway, as Dr. Wilkes, wearing nothing but the thin, regulation tank top, leaned over the top of the single washing machine. Her fingers gripped the edge of the hood and her legs had been spread in a wide stance, panties dropped carelessly around one ankle, giving the android access to fuck her from behind.

You’d been scarcely able to breathe. Birdie was the Cormorant’s android, after all, and served the ship and her passengers in any way they required...but you hadn’t been able to help thinking of them as being your companion, your only source of comfort and companionship and physical relief for all of the dozens and dozens of months you’d been in deep space together. Still, if Dr. Wilkes had made a specific request that didn’t put the mission or the ship and her occupants in danger, Birdie would have been obliged to acquiesce. How could she have known?! The mission specialist had been onboard for less than a week at that point; how had she teased out information on the android’s capabilities so quickly, information it had taken you several months to learn?!

“Right there...right–oh fuck–r-right there…”

The moan had pulled you from your thoughts, pushing the flare of jealousy aside, for the scene before you had been far more erotic than anything else you’d encountered on your travels through the stars.

“H-harder!”

You’d watched as the young woman grunted, thrusting back against the android. Her eyes were tightly closed, face screwed up in pleasure, mouth dropped open as she panted. Birdie stood stock-still behind her, silicone-coated fingers gripping the mission specialist’s hips as a robotic cock pistoned within her. There was no missing the moment when the android followed the order: the muffled whir of the piston increased in volume, and you’d wondered if the cock within her had merely increased its speed, or if the girth had widened as well—a feature you knew, from experience, that it possessed. Dr. Wilkes’ moans had filled the room, the increased speed or pressure, or both clearly being what she needed, and you were unable to look away as she came.

A strangled noise had guttered from the woman’s dropped-open mouth, and you knew that sensation as well, for you’d never been fucked as satisfyingly as you’d been by the android. Her legs shook, knees locking together as she leaned heavily against the washer, moaning without restraint, Birdie continuing the onslaught through her orgasm.

You’d wondered, for the briefest of moments, if she’d be able to sustain the pleasurable stupor if you dropped to your knees before her, touching your tongue to her throbbing clit. You wanted to feel her pulse beneath your mouth, to taste the evidence of her release and make her come again. You knew that you would certainly be able to orgasm again, with Birdie’s cock within you and the mission specialist’s tongue stroking you, licking and sucking as you released. You would scream in ecstasy until your voice was hoarse and your legs turned to jelly, and still beg for more.

You’d realized with a jolt that your hand had found its way beneath the waistband of your shorts, that your fingers were coated in slick, and despite the earlier treatment, the burning need had reappeared.

That was four days ago. Four days of thinking about what you’d seen, four days of near-constant arousal, wondering if the mission specialist was taking advantage of the android’s pleasure protocol at any given moment. You’d undoubtedly put Birdie to good use over the months; the time secluded on the ship together giving way to a comfortable, easy sense of camaraderie. Dr. Wilkes, though...she’d been brazen in her use, taking her pleasure with the Android in the communal laundry space! She had no way of knowing you’d retired for the evening, and she certainly hadn't been quiet in her activities.

You’d called for Birdie that night you’d happened on her, once you’d slipped away from the laundry facility and repaired back to your bunk. Your hand hadn’t been what you’d needed, and you’d discovered, as you got on your hands and knees to take the android’s cock from behind as she had, that it wasn’t quite what you’d needed either. You had an unreasonable desire to have the other woman there, to watch as you’d watched; wanted her tongue, her cunt, her release against your mouth. Four days of thinking about which model number she’d used, if she also preferred the number two, if the time Birdie was not with you was sent with her, if she’d be horrified to know your thoughts and unexplainable desires, thoughts that were completely inappropriate and entirely unlike you.

You got your answer that same afternoon.

The morning had started like any other. The daily maintenance walk of the Cormorant’s bridge, close monitoring of the water level and food rations, fuel holdings and medical bay. You’d heard stories of the space travel of decades past when water was collected from sweat vapor and food consisting of little more than dehydrated cardboard, and you never failed to send up a thank you to the stars for the Cormorant’s advanced amenities.

You liked to get into the lab early and look things over, particularly with these new plants onboard, and that morning was no exception.

“Commander, I’ve made a recording in the findings log regarding this Zerumbetus...the sap is quite extraordinary. I’m not familiar with another plant that produces such a prodigious amount, the constitution is very curious...would you like me to send a downlink to the lab for further observation?”

You glanced over to the android with a smile. Birdie had been thrilled with the botanical passengers’ inclusion on the return mission, reminding you that interstellar botany was one of the many subjects in which the android excelled.

“Yes, do so. Also, alert Dr. Smythe that the transplant of that off-colony lettuce did not take. Do you think we’ll get fruit before the mission ends?”

“It’s too early to tell, but those citrus trees seem promising. Hard to believe our journey is coming to an end, is it not, Commander?”

Birdie had never been told to adjust the title with which they addressed you, but the moment Dr. Wilkes had boarded the Cormorant, they reinforced your role as Commander. It was small, but the honorific hadn’t gone unnoticed. Birdie never lets you down. You were months and months away from your target landing, but you wondered, at the android’s words, if this return trip would pass as quickly as return trips tended to back in your normal, earth-bound life. It didn’t matter where you went or how long you journeyed: driving home always seemed substantially faster than the departure, and the thought of your time on the Cormorant with the android coming to a close gave you a pang. “Birdie, what will happen at the end of the mission? Will you be requisitioned for another?”

“I should think not, Commander. I’ve almost certainly been outmoded since our mission began.”

It was true. You’d seen the evidence of such during the brief stay on Beta Twelve. Birdie’s newer counterparts possessed technology that hadn’t existed when the Cormorant left the earth’s orbit, and your faithful companion would be as outdated as the space clunky shuttles of ages past. “There will be a routine debriefment and data extraction, but it is unlikely my protocols will be needed again. I’ll likely be decommissioned once our mission is complete.”

“Would you like to come home with me, Birdie?”

You knew the android had already been privy to your conversations with your peer in the lab back home, that they’d already heard what you were contemplating. Once the Cormorant's mission was complete, you would also be taken for routine debriefing, in addition to physical therapy the reintroduce your system to life on land, a close monitoring of your body’s response to readjustment to non-simulated gravity. You would eventually be released to return to your life, to your lab and co-workers and research and data generated by the Cormorant to parse through and examine, and you would have need of an assistant. An assistant that would follow orders and complete the work without error; one whose sole impetus would be to ensure the success of the new mission, rather than their own career machinations. You wanted Birdie to come home with you, to work at your side in the lab, and the idea of the android being decommissioned and dismantled for scrap was one you could not abide.

“We’d be working in the lab, one just like this, continuing our work here.”

“It would be an honor to serve at your side in any capacity, Commander.”

There was a small smile playing at the edges of the synthetic mouth as they changed out a scope slide, and you turned back to your own work with a chuckle of contentment.

If it weren’t for the indecent thoughts that had preoccupied your mind for the last few days, you might have quite forgotten that Dr. Wilkes was onboard.

You were so content, in fact, as you stood beneath the shower in the Cormorant’s small gym a short while later, you called for the android. It felt like ages since you enjoyed Birdie’s pleasure protocol in the middle of the day, despite only being ten days since you’d left Beta Twelve’s orbit, but you saw no reason not to indulge. Dr. Wilkes had been busy with her own research, keeping out of your way, and as long as the mission specialist did her work and followed Cormorant’s protocol, you could make do with pushing your inappropriate thoughts aside.

In the endless months together, Birdie had learned and adapted to exactly what you liked. Their programming was intelligent, meant to learn and identify patterns, adjusting their own performance in turn. The android had remained stationary that night with Dr. Wilkes, the short stroke piston doing the work. You knew that sensation well, but as time had gone by, the practice of finding release with a glorified vibrator had lost its appeal, and Birdie had learned and adapted.

Showers on the Cormorant were restricted to two minutes in duration, adequate time to rinse off the self-lathering body wash stocked onboard, and the water was already off when Birdie responded to your request, finding you naked and dripping with water in the tiled room. You were aloft in the android’s arms, one arm wrapped around Birdie’s smooth, synthetic neck, and the other gripping the wrist that supported one of your legs. Birdie’s hips thrusted upwards into you, as life-like as any human partner you’d ever been with. Your head had fallen back against their chest, the curious mix of skin-like silicone and hard robotic shell pressed to your skin, when she entered the changing room.

Dr. Wilkes stared in shock, her mouth dropping open, but she did not turn away.

“Commander, do you want the curtain closed?”

Birdie’s voice was low, a murmur in your ear, and you answered on a breath.

“No.” They didn’t ask if you wanted to stop, but their movements slowed, lowering you ever so slightly, and you gripped the synthetic skin tightly. “No, don’t stop.”

You wanted her to watch, to watch as you’d watched, giving life to the fantasy you’d harbored since the night you followed the sounds coming from the laundry.

Birdie, as always, rose to the occasion. Your eyes stayed locked on the mission specialist, watching her watch you as the android hiked you higher, your legs stretched over the bend of their elbows as they fucked into you, obliging you to tighten the arm around their neck. You were spread wide open, and you knew she was able to see the number two pistoning in and out of your body, hitting that spot inside you in a way that made you gasp. You wanted to come, desperately needed to come; wanted her to watch, to drop her to her knees before you as you’d imagined doing to her.

The android was intuitive—always learning, always adjusting, and Birdie seemed to sense your need. Your leg was hoisted over their shoulder, freeing up a mechanical hand, which lowered to the front of your sex. Birdie's fingers were curious things, and with a few mechanical clicks could easily be converted to Phillips head screwdrivers and bottle openers, tools for the laboratory and vital items to repair the ship...and, you are discovered over the long months spent together, they could be made to vibrate. When a buzzing digit touched to the side of your clit, your entire body jolted, nearly dislodging yourself from the android’s arms.

Your head dropped back and your eyes screwed shut, the tiles of the Cormorant’s shower room causing your moan to echo through the space the buzzing competing with the pistoning cock, the whir of machinery developed to pleasure, and you once again wondered about the motives of the mad developers who’d created Birdie in the first place.

When your eyes blinked open again, it took a moment to refocus on Dr. Wilkes. The mission specialist had dropped to the bench, a hand thrust down the front of her leggings, watching you fall apart with a slackened jaw. The android’s cock filled you, the vibration against your clit making your thighs shake...but it was the sight of that invisible hand—the rhythmic movement beneath the thin clothing, the knowledge that she was stroking her own sex as she watched you— that sent you over the edge. Birdie’s arms held you securely as you tensed, pleasure pulsing through you like a tidal wave, spasm after spasm making you quiver and shake until you went limp and the number two withdrew.

You could easily come again, you knew without question; could straddle the mission specialist’s face and come against her tongue...but it was unseemly to consider such a thing. The young woman was gasping, having not reached completion as she watched, and you knew that feeling as well. Birdie was your companion, your trusted assistant and would be requisitioned to you once this mission ended...but that didn’t mean you couldn’t share.

“Birdie, give Dr. Wilkes some relief.”

Your unexpected passenger practically sobbed in relief as she peeled off the leggings and stretched over the bench, staring at the ceiling with her legs open wide. It was the number three that descended from the android’s body, you noted. A bit too long for your tastes, and not as much curve as you preferred, but Dr. Wilkes keened as it entered her dripping sex, the pistoning arm of the cock wasting no time before it began to hammer into her, harder than you would have enjoyed.

Always intuitive, always learning.

It was the plants, you realized, straddling the bench over Dr. Wilkes’s head. Birdie’s earlobes were soft and lifelike, another one of those odd little details that  never failed to make you smile, and you tugged them gently as you guided the android’s mouth to your body. There was something in the plants, in that prodigious sap Birdie had pointed out earlier. You’d been practically covered in it, that first day the Zerumbetus was brought aboard, and the tingling burn in your sex had started soon after. Dr. Wilkes worked with the plants in the same daily checks as you did, and you wondered how much of the stuff she’d come in contact with as well.

The velvet heat of Birdie’s tongue touched to your already sensitive clit, and you gasped. You’d need to send a message to the lab back home, to let them know of the possible deleterious effects of the botanical passengers, but in the meantime...

You knew it was the sap clouding your head and turning your thoughts, but you hoped Dr. Wilkes was able to see the way the android was tonguing you, hoped she was able to stretch her head back enough to watch. You could hear the whir of the number three, heard her little gasps, and hoped she’d be able to watch as you came again.

This was going to be, you thought, not bothering to restrain your moan, a very interesting return mission.

[mortedeveles]

Valentine’s Day, but make it illegal!

Copyright © 2021 by Veles. Do NOT repost, plagiarize, or read my content as ASMR or audiofics.

SUMMARY: Denki has been planning for weeks on how to ask his dearest crush, you, on Valentine’s Day. But once the holiday has arrived, luck doesn’t seem to be on his side... 

PAIRING: Denki Kaminari x fem!reader 

THEMES: Fluff, humor, slight angst but overall lighthearted. [ONE-SHOT] [CUPID’S ARROW WRITING EVENT] 

WORD COUNT: 4.7K (around 4702 words) 

TAG’S AND TW’S: Illegal activity (don’t try this at home kids) trespassing,  mentions of insecurities, blood and minor injuries, a bit of hurt comfort but mostly fluffy, romantic pining. 

before you read (!!!):  this fic is part of the writing event, Cupid’s Arrow! check out our masterlist if you’re interested in more Valentine Day themed works <3 please support the event with REBLOGS, likes and follows!!

Out of all the things Denki Kaminari considered himself to be, brave wasn’t exactly one of them. Sure, he could muster up the courage to tease Bakugou about something silly, then run away in fear, or pull off some stupidly dangerous stunts, but when it came to you, it felt like all the adrenaline and courage in the world abandoned him.

Left him to fend for himself, stuttering like an idiot, or simply being way dumber than his usual self. He would race off with burning cheeks after making a mistake in front of you, attempting to forget the fool he made out of himself. And you never brought it up, which he was extremely grateful for. It was just another reason why he had the biggest, fattest crush on you. You never judged him for his chaotic antics, never insulted him, or felt ashamed of him. 

Denki knew he was a big flirt, and even though he would occasionally try a cheesy pick-up line on you, it never worked. You would only laugh and pat his shoulder, telling him it was a good pick up line to use on someone. Why didn’t you see that the only person he wanted to conquer with his lines was you? That’s why he always told you them, always tried to be as romantic as one could, but you never picked up on it. 

Every unintentional rejection of yours left him to mope alone and disappointed. He had tried everything- tried using all the pick-up lines he knew of, would try to invite you on a date, but you always waved him off, almost as if you didn’t even believe him.

As the months came by and quickly left, February was here in a blink of an eye. The cold weather continued, some days were chillier than others, and on some days, there would be the occasional sunny view. Not much warmth, but at least some sunlight. 

The number fourteen on Denki’s calendar haunted him. Valentine’s Day was approaching quicker than he’d like, but he had decided that he would ask you out, for once and for all, on the upcoming day. The thing was, he still hadn’t completely made up his mind. Unsure of what to do for the special holiday, he decided to consult Kirishima, Sero, and Mina after class. When Denki brought up the topic of asking you out, Bakugou merely snorted and walked out of the classroom, not before muttering, ‘’Just ask her out dunce head, it’s not that hard.’’ 

His shoulders slumped with a dramatic sigh, and the remaining of his friends watched him with sympathetic gazes. They found themselves sitting in the 1A classroom, just after the final school bell of the day had rung. You had quickly left, walking away with Uraraka and Midoriya. Denki and his friends huddled in the center of the classroom, sitting on some desks that weren’t theirs- but since Aizawa-sensei had left early for the day, there was no one around to reprimand them.

‘’I don’t know what to do,’’ he groaned into his hands, ‘’I can’t screw this up- it has to be perfect. But…’’ 

‘’You don’t know what to do.’’ Sero completed the sentence for him, and Denki moaned in response. 

‘’Well, I don’t think you have to do something extraordinary, bro,’’ Kirishima piped in. ‘’Y/N likes you for who you are, not for some facade of sorts. Just be you, and you’ll be fine.’’ 

Mina tapped her fingers on the table, remaining to stay silent for once. Sero hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘’You’re not wrong Kirishima, but knowing Denki, Y/N might kiss him and he’ll end up accidentally electrocuting her.’’ 

Kirishima laughed heartily at this, while Denki pouted. Mina gasped loudly, raising a finger in the air. She then grinned and clasped her hands together, rubbing them vigorously.

‘’I know what you should do, Denki! I’ve just thought of something,’’ she leaned towards the blonde, whispering into his ear. Kirishima and Sero watched the exchange, as Denki’s droopy eyes quickly widened.

‘’No!’’ He yelled out, and Mina cackled as his face went bright red. ‘’I’m not- I’m not doing that!’’ 

‘’What did Mina suggest?’’ Sero asked and Denki grumbled. 

‘’She told me to-to put a trail of roses in Y/N’s room, and sit on her bed, a rose in my mouth and half-naked!’’ He cried out, and by how flustered he was, it wouldn’t be long until steam puffed out of his ears.

His friends laughed loudly, while he rubbed his ears, feeling the warm skin against his palm.

‘’I am not doing that,’’ he stated and Mina snickered.

‘’Okayy...’’ she sang-song, ‘’I was just trying to help you out!’’ 

Denki huffed, shaking his head. ‘’I may be a big flirt, but that’s… waaay out of my boundaries.’’ 

Sero chuckled. He then began to shoot small strips of tape out of his elbows, absentmindedly placing them on the desk. Kirishima hummed in his seat, his sharp teeth poking out. 

‘’Well,’’ the red-hair started. ‘’Y/N’s quirk has to do with nature, right? Maybe you could take her to a camping site. Or a park, but I think maybe she’d like to spend a night outdoors.’’ 

‘’Kiri…’’ Denki trailed off. ‘’That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard!’’ He quickly scrambled out of his seat.

‘’Wait- where are you going?’’ Kirishima and Mina called after him, watching as their friend tripped over a seat before racing out of the classroom. 

‘’I need to plan this date!’’ He shouted. ‘’If I want everything to go as planned, I need to start working now!’’ 

The remaining U.A. students chuckled at their friends’ antics, before returning to look at each other.

‘’Do you think the date will go alright?’’ Mina piped in.

Kirishima shrugged. ‘’I don’t know,’’ Sero responded. ‘’Knowing Denki, they might end up in trouble, or lost somewhere.’’ 

Kirishima laughed, slapping Sero on the back. ‘’Let’s have a little bit more faith in our human Pikachu, Sero. Who knows? They might end up dating after Valentine’s Day.’’ 

                         ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Today was the fated day. It was February 14th, and Denki didn’t think he could be any more nervous than he already was. With a rose in his hand and a box of chocolates in another, he slowly trudged into his first period, eyes immediately landing on your seated figure. You were smiling, laughing, and nodding along with whatever Mina was talking about. But when the pink girl spotted him, she grinned, before bidding goodbye to you.

Aizawa-sensei hadn’t arrived yet. The blonde took a deep breath, feeling his heart ready to explode. This was it. He was going to walk up to you, give you a charming smile, and ask you out without hesitation.

‘’Here goes nothing,’’ he told himself before approaching your desk. Your head was ducked, focused on a notebook you had just pulled out. 

Denki cleared his throat and straightened his posture as you looked up at him with a welcoming smile.

‘’Hey, Denki, what’s up?’’ You saw the flower and chocolates in his hand but didn’t say anything.

‘’Um…’’ he felt just like when he’d overuse his quirk, dumb and unable to say anything. You were just so damn pretty, and he was speechless every time he met your gaze.

‘’Would-would you like to go out with me today?’’ His voice was much squeakier and nervous than he’d like, but Denki mentally clapped himself on the back for being able to do it.

Now, it was up to you. Your eyes widened in surprise, lips slightly parting open. 

‘’Wait...that’s for me?’’ You pointed at the flower and chocolates. Denki suddenly became aware how most of his classmates had gone quiet, and were watching the two of you. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded in response.

‘’Do you, um, wanna be my Valentine’s?’’ The blonde cursed as his voice escaped as a squeak yet again. But when you smiled widely, his worries were washed away in an instant.

‘’I would love to!’’ Some of his classmates began to cheer, while you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Your perfume suddenly invaded his senses, and his mind was foggy, unable to focus on anything but you.

Wait... you accepted-?! Denki couldn’t stop the dopey smile that spread across his lips as he returned your hug, basking in your lovely scent. 

‘’Grea-great!’’ He stammered but felt his confidence return quickly. ‘’I’ll pick you up at your dorm at four o’clock, is that okay with you?’’ 

His heart stuttered at your bright smile. God, you were so cute.  

‘’That works with me!’’ 

For the rest of the school day, Denki could not stop thinking about you. The rush of confidence and happiness he felt was still there, but so was something else. He felt his insecurities creep onto him. 

What was he going to say during the date…? Should he dress in any particular way? Wait- he was the one who had decided on the location, so he should know. Should he bring you more flowers? Did you even like the flowers and chocolate he gave you? What if you’re allergic to flowers and he didn’t know-?! You had accepted the gifts and thanked him nonstop, but what if you were just pitying him…?

He was growing nervous and antsy. Unable to stop thinking about the future, he sat on the lunch bench next to Kirishima, tapping his leg up and down. Sero and Mina were talking, but Denki had his mind on other things.

He had decided to go with Kirishima’s idea, a date at a camping site, which was in a fairly popular park near U.A. Denki had checked the park’s website, reading over the type of events they had. He had also heard that there was a beautiful view at the park, but it was extremely dangerous so it was restricted. But Denki would find the way to show it to you, he was sure of it.

And before he knew it, the blonde found himself standing outside your dorm, extremely aware of Mina and Kirishima watching from the wall corner down the hall, murmuring excitedly. He swallowed nervously, feeling small beads of sweat form on his forehead. This is it, he thought as his fist fell upon the wooden door. 

‘’Hey!’’ You greeted him cheerfully as the door swung open. Denki’s mouth opened, jaw slackening as he stared at you, eyes trailing over your outfit. You felt slightly scrutinized under his gaze but felt your cheeks warm up as well. 

‘’Hey... you look really nice.’’ He murmured, nervously scratching the back of his head. You smiled, hands tightening around your backpack straps. Denki was staring at you in awe as if you were wearing the finest of silks and jewelry. But really, you were just wearing a comfortable grey tracksuit, paired with some black running shoes, a backpack with some essentials, and a sleeping bag hung around your shoulder, you were ready to go. He’d told you during English that you would go camping, so you decided to prepare for the trip. 

‘’Thanks, you look good as well.’’ The blonde was sporting a black jacket and black sweatpants, with a yellow lightning bolt sewn onto the upper left shoulder, sporting a pair of black sneakers similar to yours. His hair was slightly ruffled and you resisted the urge to reach out and hold the golden locks between your fingers. 

 ’It’s nothing,’’ he waved you off, but the soft blush that spread across his cheeks made you smile. ‘’Anyways, uhm, are you ready to go?’’ 

‘’Yeah!’’ You adjusted the bag around your shoulder, stepping out of your dorm, locking it behind you. ‘’Let’s do this.’’ 

Denki smiled brightly, and you felt your heart stutter. He outstretched his hand and with a shy smile, you took it.

The two of you quickly walked out of the dorm buildings, your friends cheering and whooping behind you, and you couldn’t help but laugh as your face grew warmer. Denki glanced at you, and the two of you shared a bright smile.

‘’So, where are we going? You told me to we’re going camping, but you didn’t say where…’’ You questioned, your hand that was intertwined with Denki gently swinging back and forth.

‘’Oh! Well, I was thinking about it for a long time,’’ he paused. ‘’Like a really, really long time,’’ you giggled. ‘’So uh, I thought we could spend the night at this national park! They have a camping area, a local store and so on. What do you think…?’’ He stopped for a second, staring at you as he awaited your reaction.

‘’Oh, cool!’’ The idea truly did excite you. ‘’Sounds great, I haven’t camped in so long.’’ The blonde smiled widely, and the two of you continued to walk away from the campus, and into the streets, where a car awaited. 

‘’I order a taxi for us,’’ Denki explained. ‘’Let’s go!’’ 

          ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

‘’Wow, this place is beautiful…’’ was the first sentence that left your lips as the two of you stepped out of the taxi, which quickly drove away. The scenery ahead of you left you speechless. So much nature, trees, it was nearly impossible to describe it in mere words. A sea of tall and towering trees surrounded the park, with a cement trail a few ahead of you, some bushes and rocks littered between trees. From the corner of your eye, you saw a squirrel climb up a tree, and grinned, forcing down a squeal of excitement.

‘’I love it!’’ You turned to look at Denki, who was already looking at you. His head jolted back in embarrassment, cheeks blooming red. 

‘’Yeah? I’m glad you think so. Come on, let’s go find our camping site. I made a reservation, so we should be fine.’’ 

‘’Oh my, okay then,’’ you walked beside him, your backpack gently bouncing on your back with every excited step you took. ‘’You planned all of this out, huh Denki? It’s amazing, I love it.’’ You stopped in your tracks, and the blonde did the same. He smiled nervously, shrugging his shoulders casually.

‘’It was nothing,’’ but you saw how he shied away from your gaze. ‘’But I’m glad you love it.’’ He gave you a warm smile, radiation so much genuine happiness and pleasure that you nearly melted into a puddle.

‘’Well then,’’ you cleared your throat, looking away with burning cheeks. ‘’We have to go find our site, right?’’ 

The blonde nodded silently, and the two of you continued to walk in the stone path. Eventually, the path led to a widespread area. There were two small wooden housings at your left- what you assumed were the local convenience stores, and in front of you, stood an array of camping tents, and three campfires.

 It wasn’t particularly crowded, with only a few people in the area, chattering animatedly. No one paid mind to you both as you walked to the camping tent on the farthest left, which was also the closest to the trees. The tent was a bright yellow and shaped like a triangular pyramid, a column of sticks holding it up from the center on the inside. The color reminded you of the blonde on your left, and you smiled.

‘’So, the tents here are kinda small, sorry ‘bout that. But I did rent the biggest size they have, hopefully, it’ll be comfortable enough for the two of us.’’ Denki explained. The two of you dropped your bags on the ground, kicking off your shoes and opening the tent. It was rather cramped, but you didn’t mind. 

‘’Sounds good to me!’’ You replied. Your eyes trailed over the inside of the tent. It was empty, and the two of you began to unpack, first unfurling your sleeping bags and laying them on the ground. It was a tight fit, and the implications of it made you swallow nervously. There was no space left between the two sleeping bags, which meant you’d have to sleep really, really close to Denki. The thought of it made your stomach twist and your heart stuttered.

Once the bags were spread and your backpack definitely felt lighter, the two of you set them on top of the sleeping bags and sat down. 

‘’So,’’ you traced your fingers on the tent’s flooring, a thin grey carpet. ‘’What’s the agenda for today?’’ 

‘’Okay, so first we’re going to walk on a trail with a tourist guide, do whatever we want, maybe some birdwatching and eat dinner? And then once it’s night time, return and roast some marshmallows over the bonfire. How does that sound?’’ 

‘’Lovely,’’ you smiled and Denki nodded. ‘’Yeah, so…’’ he pulled out his phone and nodded to himself.

‘’The tour begins in twenty minutes, so we’re here just in time. In the meanwhile, want to go outside and get to know the park?’’  

‘’Sure.’’ You said. Denki stepped out of the tent, and you followed, about to get up when he outstretched his hand towards you.

‘’Would you do me the honor, m’lady?’’ He then bowed dramatically, and you giggled as you took his hand, standing up on your feet. 

‘’Alright then Romeo, let’s go exploring.’’ 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

After hours of walking, one bird attack, and some roasted marshmallows later, you were curled up in your sleeping bag, the night calm and steady. Denki was right about the tent being tight, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were thankful or just a nervous wreck. 

He was so close to you. His warm breath was fanning your closed eyes, and you swallowed nervously. Somehow, you ended up sleeping on your side, facing him, and now your hands were brushing against his, knees bumping every now and then. Slowly, you opened one eye and peeked at him. He was sound asleep, snoring. You giggled. You followed after, gently closing your eyes and falling into a deep slumber. That is, until you heard Denki’s hushed voice, and your shoulders gently being shaken by him.

‘’Psst! Y/N, wake up,’’ he murmured, and you slowly opened your eyes, mumbling in confusion. 

‘’Denki?’’ you murmured, sitting up and leaning your elbows. ‘’What’s going on?’’

‘’I have to show you something,’’ there was a gleeful smile on his lips. ‘’Can you get up? Let’s go, we have to sneak out.’’ 

‘’Mmm..’’ you groaned in protest, but eventually got up, dusted off your clothes, and trudged behind Denki, exiting the tent. You slipped on your running shoes, and he did the same.

Crickets were chirping, the wind was gentle tonight, and it was mostly ark tonight, other than the moon shining down. You looked up and smiled. Being away from the city and deep into nature, the stars in the sky were much visible. It was a beautiful sight. 

‘’Wow, it’s beautiful out here.’’ You commented. ‘’Yeah,’’ Denki replied, but he wasn’t looking at the sky. His gaze was pinned directly on you, a soft smile on his lips. ‘’It is.’’

His unwavering gaze made your face feel hot. So with a slight tremor in your walk, you went up towards him, waiting for him to take the lead. You stood next to one of the campfires, which had already been put out earlier, and there was nothing but some wood and ashes. 

‘’What did you want to show me?’’ You piped in, wringing your hands nervously, unsure how to feel with Denki’s sudden quietness and intense stare.

‘’Oh, it’s this way. C’mon.’’ Without any further warning, the blonde slipped his hand into yours, walking further away from the camping tents and into the sea of trees. Denki’s hand was really warm, and how he took your hand without hesitation made butterflies swarm in your stomach. 

You didn’t know where you were going. Lost sense of direction, and only clung to your friend’s hand. He was holding a flashlight in his other hand, leading the way. You stepped over tree branches, dead leaves and heard small critters chirp around you.

A few more minutes went by until you heard a noise. It was faint, but only grew louder the more you walked straight ahead. The unmistakable noise of water. You perked up, the haze of sleepiness clouding you quickly diminishing, and focused on the noise. You felt it too, how the air became cooler, and the sound of falling water slowly surrounding you.

You saw a gleam of water in the distance but was met with a wired fence in front of you. Confused, you turned to Denki. 

‘’Here, hold this,’’ he handed you the flashlight, before gripping the fence, slowly climbing upwards.

‘’Wait, Denki-!’’ You exclaimed when you realized what he was doing. Then your eyes swept to your sides, and your blood ran cold as you saw the big, bold and red warning sign that read; RESTRICTED AREA. ANY TRESPASSERS WILL BE ARRESTED AND FINED.

‘’Denki!” you hissed as he jumped over the wired fence, eyes darting around to make sure there wasn’t anyone else around. ‘’Are you sure this is legal?!’’

He nodded quickly,- a little too fast for your liking, which made your suspicions heighten. ‘’Of course, it is!’’ he responded eagerly, offering you his hand. ‘’Why wouldn’t it be?’’

You sighed. ‘’Because, it’s already dark, there’s no one here, and I’m pretty sure that sign to my left says that this area is off-limits.’’  

‘’Pfft, that old thing?’’ The blonde shrugged and shook his head in denial. ‘’Doesn’t matter. We’ll be fine!’’ He waved you off. 

‘’Anyway, can you throw over the flashlight? Then climb over here.’’ With a defeated groan, you threw the flashlight over the wired fence- which wasn’t too tall, around one and a half meters at most. 

Denki caught it in his hands, and you began to climb. Days, months of training helped you move quickly without any major difficulties, and before you knew it, you were on the top, springing towards the floor. Except, you didn’t notice the top of the fence had particularly sharp wire ends, and pressed your hand against it, before jumping down to the ground.

‘’Fuck!’’ You hissed when pain sprang from your palm and watched as blood seeped out of it. ‘’Oh god.’’

‘’Are you okay? What happened-oh.’’ Denki’s mouth fell shut when he noticed your bleeding hand. Then his eyes widened and he sprang into action. 

‘’Oh, shit! Does it hurt a lot? I’m so sorry,’’ he began to ramble, and looked around at his surroundings, anything to stop the bleeding. ‘’Fuck, shit,’’ the blonde took off his jacket and your eyes widened. 

‘’Wait, no Denki-! That’s one of your new jackets, it’ll get stained with the blood!’’ But he didn’t listen to you and insisted, wrapped one of the sleeves around your palm and gently pressed down, the cloth soaking up the blood.

‘’It doesn’t matter,’’ he stated. ‘’You’re hurt, and it’s my fault. I can’t just stand here and do nothing about it,’’ the last part of his sentence came out as a whisper, but you still caught the words with a frown.

‘’Hey,’’ you gently reached out for his arm, squeezing it reassuringly. ‘’It’s not your fault, okay? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a minor cut, I’ll be fine.’’

‘’But it is my fault,’’ he looked at you pleadingly, almost desperately. Your chest ached. 

‘’I’m so dumb, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t insisted on us trespassing, none of this would’ve happened. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I never meant for you to get hurt, I’m lucky enough as it is that you gave me a chance today -,’’ you stopped him with a finger against his lips, frowning at the sight of his watery eyes.

‘’Hey, hey, everything is okay,’’ you said gently, dropping your now wrapped left hand to the side, and held Denki’s chin with the other. 

‘’Everything will be alright. You’re not dumb, okay? Don’t ever say that,’’ his lip wobbled. ‘’And what do you mean, you’re lucky enough I gave you a chance? I would’ve said yes anytime, Denki.

‘’Wait...really?’’ He looked genuinely shocked, and it made your heart ache.

‘’Yes, I’m serious Denki. I’ve liked you for so long, didn’t you know?’’ 

‘’Oh.’’ His sudden silence from the shock made you giggle. But then his eyes drifted to your wrapped hand, and he frowned. 

‘’Hey, hey,’’ you murmured, bringing his attention from your hand to your face. ‘’My hand’s all wrapped up now, I’ll get it cleaned up on the way back, why don’t you show me wherever you wanted to go first?’’ Denki was quiet and didn’t remove his eyes from your face, and your heart stuttered when his gaze fell open your lips. 

‘’Okay,’’ he said but made no moves to step away. The blonde and you suddenly became aware of how little distance there was between the two of you. You couldn’t stop thinking about how tempting Denki’s lips looked, and his thoughts weren’t too far from yours. 

‘’Can I..can I kiss you?’’ The words left his mouth before he could even register them. You smiled, and instead of answering, you leaned forward.

A needy, almost desperate ghost of a groan left Denki’s throat when you met his lips, and you noticed how his eyes widened, but you merely smiled against his mouth. He wasn’t rough, but his movements were fast, desperate as if this would be the last time his lips met yours.

Your hands trailed to his hair, gently toying with the tips, and Denki melted even more into the kiss. It was enthralling, kissing your friend, but before you could get carried away, you pulled away, hands resting on the blonde’s chest. It was heaving up and down, and you smiled at the sight of Denki’s pink lips, now swollen and reddish.

‘’You know, when you asked me out earlier today, I didn’t expect things to end up like this,’’ you commented, and the boy chuckled.

‘’Yeah, me either.’’ He slowly took your hand in his once again, and the two of you began to walk forward. Your surroundings were pretty much the same as before, walking in a multitude of trees and nature, with no clear path ahead.

‘’I heard water,’’ you said. ‘’Earlier, when we arrived at the fence. Is there a lake or something here?’’

Denki gave you a sly smile. ‘’Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see for yourself, Y/N-chan.’’ You smiled at his response, and the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence, feet trudging along the grass and dirt.

‘’We’re almost there,’’ he said, and you could tell. There were fewer trees as if forming a path straight forward. Finally, you caught the sight of the water, and let out a breathless sigh. It was a beautiful sight. There was a waterfall across the forest, the water pouring down into a lake below, and with the moon shining on it, it left you mesmerized.

‘’Oh, be careful,’’ Denki held you back when you walked forward, eyes pinned on the waterfall. ‘’It’s a cliff here, so we don’t want to walk too far and fall, but we can sit on the edge if you want to.’’

‘’Yeah,’’ you agreed and smiled. The two of you walked forward, hands clasped together tightly. Soon enough, you reached the edge of the cliff and tentatively, peeked at the bottom. Your stomach lurched a bit, seeing the distance, but instead, you ripped your gaze away from it and sat down with Denki. 

‘’I really enjoyed today,’’ you commented, swinging your legs back and forth. Denki looked at you, and his hand slowly crept to yours as he gave you a nervous smile.

‘’I’m glad,’’ he said. ‘’I wanted it to be special for you.’’ 

You exhaled with a small smile, before quickly leaning towards the blonde, landing a brief kiss on his mouth, and pulling away. Despite kissing earlier, his face still went red as a tomato.

‘’Oh-oh wow,’’ he looked dumbfounded before his face brightened. ‘’… does this mean I get horny rights-?’’ 

You sighed but cracked a smile. ‘’Say that again and I’m pushing you off this cliff, Denki.’’ 

‘’Okay, okay,’’ he raised his hands in surrender, and gave you a lopsided grin. ‘’It was worth a try.’’ 

a/n: ahh!! this was my first time writing for denki, i hope it’s okay!! i struggle with characterization a lot. anyways, check out the Cupid’s Arrow masterlist if you want more Valentine’s Day themed content! 

if you enjoyed, please leave a like, REBLOG, comment, and/or follow! all the support is greatly appreciated <3

Copyright © 2021 by Veles. Do NOT repost, plagiarize, or read my content as ASMR or audiofics.

[misc-headcanons]

Hello! It's nice to see you back, how are you? This is my first time asking so I hope I'm doing this right If possible, could I ask for Maki, rangiku, Ann takamaki with a tall, quiet, and intimidating S/O, sort of looking like they have done some crimes in the past (which they haven't!) but in reality, they're just a shy cinnamon roll of a nerd, trying their best not to appear scary to their peers. Sorry if the ask was long! ;-;

Maki

Maki wouldn't be too intimidated by her s/o even before they got together. If anything she admires their physique and their cool fashion sense. Maki also appreciates having an s/o that is more of a listener than a talker, since I think she feels the need to vent every now and again when training doesn't quite work out all of her stress.

She thinks it's so funny whenever they act adorable or nerdy, just because the difference between their personality and their looks are SO different. She does her best to stifle her laughter if she thinks it'd offend her s/o, but she DOES smile a lot and just squeezes their hand or kisses their cheek whenever she can't handle how sweet they're being.

She and her s/o are a very intimidating couple. "Power couple," indeed. The first time she introduces them to the squad, they all feel like Maki's stories about them aren't quite matching the tough and grim-looking person in front of them. But when they see Maki hold ____'s hand while showing them around and they see ____ blush a little before squeezing her hand back, they're just like "Huh. Guess looks can be deceiving..."

Rangiku

She'll affectionately call her s/o a nerd or a dork sometimes. Like she sees them looking at some figurine or book set or smth like it's the Holy Grail and she busts out laughing. It's like if Kenpachi was caught going all starry-eyed over something like video game merch, you know? They just look so dorky and cute!

Because they've got a very intimidating appearance nobody tries to flirt with Rangiku in front of them. Sometimes people try to challenge him to a fight though, and Rangiku always tries to step in and scare them away by talking big about how they DON'T want to fight her s/o. "The last time someone tried fighting 'em, we had to stay up all night getting rid of the body y'know."

Sometimes she'll try to teach them to be more assertive but it doesn't usually end up the way she'd hope. She'll have them practice with her and say that every time they stand up for themselves, she'll give them a kiss or take off a piece of her clothing. Since ____ stammering out a quiet response and speaking up even a little is a sign of improvement, she winds up stripping and that just makes them even more flustered and embarrassed lol.

Ann

She'd be a little too intimidated by their appearance to admit her crush on them, but eventually she just goes "screw it" and gathers her courage. And to her shock, ____ actually turns bright red and is SO shy when they offer to take her out on a date. The whole thing instantly makes her stress melt away and now she thinks they're handsome/pretty AND adorable.

Ann would be protective of her s/o since she knows they're not as scary or tough as they look. Her experience fighting Shadows leads to her becoming more and more confident, and outside of the Metaverse she can be pretty damn scary when she wants to be.

People see the two of them out on a date and instantly think of those romantic stories where opposites attract, or something like Beauty and the Beast. She's dressed in something trendy and has her hair in those cute pigtails of hers, and her s/o is just this absolute unit in something like ripped jeans and a leather jacket with spikes. Sometimes she'll borrow their clothes whenever she wants some edge to her outfits and it ALWAYS makes her s/o all shy and flattered.