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teapartyprincess4two · 3 months

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can't stop thinking about Full Set because it is just perfection. the writing, the pace, the length, the way you portray the characters, and literally everything. It's an absolute crime that you don't have more fics?!?!?!

Way Over Love- C. Sturniolo

pairing: Influencer!reader x FWB!Chris

classification: fwb, suggestive, smut, angst

warnings: 18+, MDNI, suggestive content, slight smut, slight angst, mentions of cheating, jealousy, alcohol use, cursing, toxic relationship, toxic Chris, no use of y/n

inspiration: Drunk Calls by YSB Tril

summary: Rumors spread like wildfire, especially in this new digital era, so it’s best to keep everything a secret. After so many drunk calls and missed texts Chris is way over love. Or is he?

—

It started off so innocently, you and Chris sharing a conversation in the hallway of a crowded influencer house party. You spoke about how stressful being on social media had become; eyes always watching, people always judging. The two of you could relate to each other and as the night progressed, you both became more and more inebriated. A simple conversation turned into two strangers giving into their deepest, darkest desires and fucking relentlessly in the restroom. You weren’t able to get enough of each other.

The next day you remembered all of it, your core pulsating at the memories. An Instagram DM in your notification center from Chris let you know that he remembered it too. From that moment on, you two have been addicted to each other, unable to go more than a few days without seeing each other. Without feeling each other.

It was car sex, shower sex, bored sex, stressed sex, come over I’m lonely sex. So much physical attraction eventually led to an actual friendship. The friendship became precious to you both too, trumping the sex. That’s when the rules came in; NO STRINGS ATTACHED. You two were going to remain friends who fucked, that’s it. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.

Eventually your lives became more intertwined than you’d ever planned for. Your friendship blossomed and you began to gain friends in common. You met his brothers and you guys all began collaborating together, you and Chris would film your own content, and you’d even go out as friends. There was something special about you and Chris on screen, you guys made so much money working together and playing into the rumors. But for the sake of both your careers, you kept your relationship a secret.

Before you could realize it, the lines of your situationship became blurred and you found yourself yearning for Chris in more ways than one. He’d always leave right after, leaving you to tend to the mess that was left behind. You thought he was leaving so he wouldn’t have to engage in meaningful conversation with you, but it was really because he couldn’t trust himself to stay longer. If he stayed he’d surely steal loving kisses, let his hands linger too long, and say something he’d later regret.

—

You’re currently laying on your bed editing a video so it’s ready to upload on time. Your phone rings from beside you, pulling you from your deep concentration. You pick the phone up to check who’s calling, but you know who it is; Chris. You pick the phone up, excitement already bubbling inside of you, “Hello?”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other side of the phone, Chris is home and he needs to find a secluded area. If his brothers heard him on the phone with you they’d either become suspicious or ask to crash your hang out. He rushes down to his room before responding, “Hey, you busy?” The answer was yes, but for Chris you were never too busy. “No, why?” You ask, but you know why. It was always the same thing, Chris would come over, you would fuck, then he would leave. Yes, the sex was good, but for once you wanted something more.

“You know why,” he’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone even if you can’t see him. He tugs his shoes on, ready to call an Uber and make his way over to your house. A chuckle escapes your lips at his response as you reply, “need a ride?” He wanted to say no to save you the drive, but every time you pick him up you guys have the hottest car sex. Then you either head back to your place for another quickie or grab something to eat, or both.

“Yes please,” his tone is so cute, almost like he’s asking for the last piece of candy. It reminds you of all the times he’s begged you to touch him from beneath you. “I’ll be there in 15,” you say, jumping off your bed and walking to your closet to slip on some shoes. You’re fully clad in your pajamas, but Chris has seen you naked enough times for you not to be embarrassed.

“Ok, baby,” the nickname slips so easily, but before this he had only ever called you that during sex. You decide not to comment on it, but as soon as he says it a shiver runs up your spine. All you can think about is him panting ‘baby’ again and again with every thrust. You hang up the phone before you say something you don’t mean, grab your keys and head outside to your car.

—

When you arrive to Chris’s house he’s already waiting for you outside. He’s sitting on the curb, watching the cars pass by. He can’t contain the excitement he feels when he sees your car round the corner. All he can think about is you in the backseat, the foggy windows hiding you from the world.

You pull up next to him and he quickly hops in. “Hi, sexy,” Chris greets with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes but allow him to pull you in for a quick kiss, the first of many tonight. “Hi,” you whisper against his lips, pecking him one last time before putting the car in drive. The drive to your favorite parking lot is quick, coming to you like second nature.

As soon as you put the car in park, his lips are back on yours and his hands are on you in an attempt to feel you closer. “I missed you so much,” he groans in between kisses, he didn’t want to pull away even to breathe. You whimper when he says this, you missed him too even if you just saw him two days ago. “Come here,” he instructs, pulling you over to the passenger side by the waist.

It happens before you can process it, the car is rocking and the windows fog with every hot breath and moan. Hand prints adorn the sweaty window, both of you grunting and groaning at the feeling of being so close. “You feel so good, baby,” he murmurs as he watches himself slip in and out of you in awe. His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge, clenching around him as you come undone. You’re too fucked out to answer, instead dropping your head on his shoulder and allowing him to do the rest of the work.

He follows suit shortly after with a loud grunt as he pulls you off of him and makes a mess on himself. His face is red and his hair is disheveled, but to you he looks perfect. You’re still sitting on him, both of you catching your breath as you take in his beauty. He feels your eyes on him and becomes awkward, “alright, you can get off me.”

The change in his demeanor feels like whiplash, he was calling you baby just a few seconds ago and now he’s commanding you to get off of him. “Sorry,” you scoff sarcastically as you fix your pajamas pants and slid back over to the drivers seat. You hated how easily he was able to switch up with you. For once you wished it could be more than just sex with Chris, but you knew he would never take your relationship beyond that.

The awkward tension settles in the car as Chris reaches into the center console for a napkin to clean himself up with. “You hungry?” He asks, wiping away at his sweatpants. “No,” you snap with a roll of your eyes.

Chris is quick to quip back, “What the fucks your problem?” His jaw is clenched. You don’t respond, instead turning the car on. You’re so ready to just drop him off at his house and be done with him for tonight. Finally you gain the courage to respond back, “you’re my problem.” He groans in annoyance and rolls his eyes, he wasn’t in the mood to put up with your attitude today. “Whatever bro, you always do this shit,” he says, putting his seatbelt on aggressively and pulling his phone out from his pocket.

“I always do this shit? You switch up as fast as you cum bro,” you said it so fast that you didn’t even realize it. Had you gone too far? His eyes go wide, he can’t believe you just said that. By this point you’re outside his house and place the car in park, unlocking the door dramatically. You’re hoping he’ll take it as his cue to leave so you can be done with this conversation. “You’re such a bitch sometimes,” he mumbles, unbuckling himself and opening the car door.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just gets out of the car dramatically and slams the door in the process. “Wow so mature!” You yell as you watch him walk towards his house. He throws a middle finger your way and disappears inside.

You didn’t mean for the night to end like this, but you weren’t going to tolerate his disrespect. Every time he treated you like a side piece you couldn’t help but let your emotions get the best of you. You were done with him for sure this time.

—

Your no contact period with Chris didn’t last too long, a couple days later he was drunk calling you from a random party begging to come over. “Chris, you’re drunk,” you say into the phone, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. It was late and all you wanted to do was curl up on your couch with a warm blanket as you watch your favorite tv show. But for some reason you can’t find it in you to hang up the phone.

“Yeah, drunk in love,” he hiccups as he serenades you by singing Drunk In Love by Beyonce loudly through the speaker. You laugh at how his singing directly juxtaposes the trap music in the background. You wish he was always this carefree. “You don’t mean that,” you say through your small laughter. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” His words are so slurred and the music in the background is so loud that it’s hard to hear him.

“Because you’re drunk Chris,” you sigh, knowing that if he was sober he’d never be this sweet. “Never stopped you before,” he hiccups again, staggering slightly as he makes his way through the crowded house party. He was looking for his brothers, who decided long ago they didn’t want to be near Chris and his drunk behavior. “I was drunk too, dumbass,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Everytime you say ‘drunk’ he’s triggered to start singing Drunk In Love by Beyonce and you can’t help but laugh. “See, I knew you loved me,” he coos playfully through slurred syllables, finally finding Nick and Matt amidst the crowded room. Nick heard what Chris said and wondered who the hell he was talking too, but he realized that Chris was so drunk that he probably didn’t even know. “Who said anything about love?” You tease, getting up from the couch to make your way over to your room.

You’re beginning to get tired so you hope Chris gets distracted and hangs up soon, especially because the conversation is dipping into risky territory. You snuggle up under the covers, a small yawn echoing through the room. He hears your yawn and slightly frowns at the idea of hanging up to let you rest. “You tired?” He asks, a solemn tone in his voice. You hum in response, pulling the comforter up higher against your body.

“Okay. I’ll let you sleep, baby,” his tone is so sweet and gentle that you find yourself wishing you could freeze this moment in time. You hum in response. “Goodnight baby, I’ll call you tomorrow.” He’s still so incredibly drunk so you know he won’t remember any of this tomorrow. “Goodnight,” you murmur, hearing the phone click when he hangs up.

The next day you wait for his phone call all day. It never comes, you should’ve known better.

—

It’s been two weeks since that drunken phone call from Chris and he’s been texting your phone nonstop. Every text has gone unread, you’re completely over being strung along for his entertainment and pleasure. You’ve still been uploading your videos and posting on Instagram according to your schedule so Chris knows you’re just ignoring him.

You’re currently at brunch with a few friends, all of them grossly unaware of your situationship with Chris. Your phone has been buzzing nonstop and your notification center is filled with messages from Chris.

“Girl who the fuck is blowing your line?” your friend Amanda asks, watching as your phone lights up incessantly with messages. “Oh it’s just Instagram,” you lie, turning your phone over so the screen is face down on the table. This doesn’t make it less annoying though, the buzzing interrupting your conversation with your friends again and again. You’re about to shut your phone off, but Amanda grabs it aggressively off the table.

The rest of your friends watch in shock as she reads through your messages, Amanda’s eyes widening with each message she reads. “Give it back,” you grumble, attempting to snatch your phone back but she holds it out of reach each time. “Who is Chris?!” She exclaims, standing from the table dramatically to show your other friends the messages. This had to be one of the most embarrassing moments in your life.

“He’s just a friend,” it comes out as a plead. You’re pleading for your phone back and pleading that she doesn’t ask any more questions. “Doesn’t seem like it,” your other friend LuLu chimes in as she reads all the messages for herself. You want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

“Wait is this one of those Sturniolo kids you’re always collabing with?” This time your friend Rachel speaks. She was your closest friend out of the three and was always up to date on everything related to your channel. You feel like a little kid who just got caught stealing candy. “Bitch, are you two… fucking?” Raquel asks, putting all the pieces together as she begins understanding the context of all the messages. I mean of course you were fucking, why else would you be so secretive?

You’ve all caught the attention of surrounding customers at this point and all you can do is pray that none of them know what or who they’re talking about. “It’s complicated,” you say with finality, finally snatching your phone back. “Mm yeah. Seems pretty complicated,” LuLu snickers before taking a sip of her drink. “I miss you baby,” Amanda mocks, quoting one of Chris’s messages to you. “Come over. I need you,” LuLu follows in Amanda’s footsteps, mocking and quoting the messages dramatically.

You hadn’t read them yet, but it warmed your heart to know he missed you. Your face is burning hot with embarrassment but you can’t help the smile that creeps its way onto your face at the thought of Chris missing you. At the thought of Chris needing you. “Ew don’t get all blushy and romantic,” Raquel says with a fake gag. You roll your eyes playfully before responding, “we’re just friends who fuck, okay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. He seems pretty in love,” Raquel replies with a shrug. You roll your eyes again. ‘Chris in love? Yeah right,’ you thought, internally dismissing the idea before you can get your hopes up.

“Can you hook me up with one of his brothers?” Lulu asks jokingly, causing you all to laugh and return to normal conversation.

—

When you arrive home you make your way to your front door as usual, completely oblivious to the fact that Chris was sitting on your front doorstep waiting for you. He watches your every move, taking in every curve of your body.

“Where have you been?” He asks, catching you completely off guard. He stands up from the front step, wanting to block your way inside. You’re about to scream and run away before you realize it’s just Chris. What the fuck was he doing at your house? “Brunch,” you reply hastily, moving past him to make your way inside.

“With?” he grabs you by the elbow, a little too aggressively for your liking. You yelp from the sudden pressure, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t even realize he’s hurting you. “Let go, Chris,” you attempt to yank your elbow from his grasp but he adjusts his grip so that he’s holding your arms. “Who were you with?” He asks again, becoming slightly more aggressive with his tone.

“What does it matter? We fuck, Chris. That’s it,” this time you’re able to wiggle out of his grasp. You storm inside, but before you’re able to close the door on him he stops it with his foot. “Were you fucking someone else?” He asks, managing to get inside ‘What the fuck?!?’ you thought, how was he so stupid?!

“First you got all bitchy with me in the car,” he says, preparing an entire mental list of all the things you’ve done in the past couple of weeks. “Then you don’t answer my calls,” he’s counting on his fingers at this point. “Not to mention all the unread messages,” his voice is loud and intimidating, but you’re not one to shy away from an argument.

“I did answer your call,” you quip back equally as loud, referring to that one drunken phone call. “When? Huh? When?” He walks closer to you, closing the gap between you two almost completely. His nose is flared and his fists are balled up, and although you know he’d never hurt you, you’re still a little scared. ‘He really doesn’t remember,’ you thought, your heart breaking. He was so sweet that night over the phone and he doesn’t even remember he called.

“The other night,” you reply in a hushed voice, so embarrassed that the phone call meant so much to you. “Fucking bullshit. Who else are you fucking?!” he isn’t listening to reason, he’s fully convinced you’re seeing someone else and keeping it a secret. “Why do you care?!” you’re both at 100% now, caught up in the argument and blinded by rage. Since when does he care so much who you’re with or who you’re fucking.

“Why would I want anyone else fucking my girl?!” The room goes silent as soon as he says it. Had he really called you his girl? You scoff and roll your eyes, you knew better than that now. He never meant it and you weren’t about to be played again. “I was with my friends,” you say, completely over this conversation. The sooner he leaves, the better.

“My girl friends,” you reiterate, emphasizing ‘girl’ so he gets the hint that you’re not fucking anyone else. He coughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Oh. Sorry..” he says, but you don’t believe him. You’re so tired of all the empty apologies.

“Can you just… go?” you sigh. You’re not upset, just mentally drained from this entire interaction. At first he thinks you’re joking, you’ve never kicked him out before. He’s usually the one who rushes to leave while you beg him to stay. When he realizes you’re not joking he’s at a loss for words. Chris watches as you walk over to the front door, opening it and standing next to it so he can peacefully and quietly leave. You’re tired of fighting.

He feels like the walls are closing in on him and pushing him out the door because his feet are moving but his mind is telling him to stay, to fight for you. “Baby, I’m sorry..” he pleads, trying to catch your gaze. You don’t even look at him, you can’t even look at him. He takes the hint and walks out. You were done with him and this time it was real.

—

It’s been months since you last spoke to Chris. After he left your house that day you blocked his number and erased any and every trace of him from your life. You threw away clothes, deleted pictures, and mentally reminded yourself everyday to move on. Nothing has been the same since and you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him, but you needed a fresh start.

Chris has been a wreck ever since. He wants to show up at your house, but he’s afraid you’ll just end up fighting again and you’ll hate him more than you already do. He hasn’t gotten rid of anything not even the clothes, the pictures, or the memories. In fact, he can’t stop scrolling through his camera roll to look at pictures of you. Nick and Matt have noticed the sudden drop in his mood and the lack of your presence, but they don’t say anything. His fans have also noticed a change in his demeanor, commenting on how sad he looks and how you haven’t recorded with the triplets in a long time.

“There’s a party later at Mario’s. You going?” Matt asks Chris, both of them sitting in the living room. Chris wanted to say no, but he quickly decided that today was going to be the day he got over you. “Who’s going?” Chris asks, wanting to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into a situation where he’d have to confront you. “I don’t know? People?” Matt replies sassily, rolling his eyes at Chris’s stupid question. How was he supposed to know who was going? “Yeah I’ll go,” Chris says, not putting too much importance in Matt’s sassy attitude.

As the party nears, Chris spends an abnormally long time getting ready. If this was his reentry back into the ‘dating’ world, he needed to look good. “Chris! Hurry up!” Nick yells from upstairs, he and Matt waiting impatiently on the couch for Chris to finish getting ready. “I’m ready!” Chris yells back, running up the stairs to show his brothers the outfit he put together. “How do I look?” He asks, stretching his shirt out so his brothers can gain a better view. “You look normal. Let’s go,” Nick says annoyed, not even looking at Chris’s outfit.

The drive to party isn’t too long and the whole time Chris finds himself wondering if you’ll be there. Mario was a mutual friend of yours so maybe, just maybe, you’d be there. He wants you to be there, but he also doesn’t know what he’ll do or say to you. Would you even want to talk to him? If you did, what would he say? What would you say?

The three of them arrive to the party, making their way inside the house and weaving in and out of the crowd to find their group of friends. Chris can’t help but scan each room for you. He feels both sad and relieved when he doesn’t find you. He dabs up his friends as he passes them, grabbing a drink along the way. As he’s taking a swig, he finally sees you. He does a double take, trying to make sure it’s actually you.

You’re standing outside talking to some guy Chris has never seen before. Immediately the jealousy and rage fills Chris’s body. Who the fuck is that guy? “I’m gonna go find Madi. I’ll be right back,” Nick shouts over the music, patting Chris’s shoulder to grab his attention. Chris breaks his attention from you briefly to look at Nick. “What?” Chris asks loudly, he didn’t hear Nick on account of the music and because he was too busy keeping tabs on you. “I’m gonna go find Madi!” Nick shouts louder as he begins to walk away.

When Nick leaves, Chris looks back to where you were standing, but you’re no longer there. He looks around him, doing a full 360 in an attempt to find you again. His mind was racing with the thought of you and that guy. Where were you? Did you sneak off with him? Who the fuck even is that guy? “I’ll be back,” Chris dismisses himself from Matt and his group of friends quickly, rushing out of the room to look for you. Everyone gives him weird looks, but quickly revert back to their previous conversations.

At this point Chris has gone up and down the stairs so many times he feels his calves burning. It feels like he’s entered every room at least 50 times but he still can’t find you. He’s about to give up as he rounds a corner, somehow finding a room he hasn’t entered. The door is cracked open slightly and from the corner of his eye he sees you. You’re sitting on the bed with the same guy as before.

It takes everything in him to stop himself from barging in. He watches attentively to see what you two are doing. So far, it looks like you’re just talking, but the anger doesn’t dissipate from his body at the sight of you with another man. When you lean into the guy Chris decides he’s seen enough. He barges into the room abruptly, causing you and your friend to jump apart in shock.

“Oops, didn’t see you guys,” Chris says sarcastically, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Chris?” you ask, still in shock at how he barged in. He ignores you, instead looking at your friend before saying, “you can leave now.”

Your friend doesn’t say anything, he just gets up and hurriedly leaves the room sensing that something he wasn’t meant to see was about to happen. “What the fuck are you doing?” you ask in anger. This was the first time you’ve even seen Chris in months, let alone spoken to him and of course you two are already arguing. “Who the fuck was that?!” He answers your question with a question, his tone so much louder than yours already.

“My friend!?” You respond as if it wasn’t already obvious that the guy who was just in here is just your friend. “Yeah, that’s why you’re in here alone right?” The question is rhetorical and it’s such a stupid statement. Friends can be alone, what the fuck was he going on about? “You know what? I’m not putting up with your shit,” you stand from the bed, ready to walk out and leave this behind you.

Chris blocks your path and grabs your face in his hands, pulling you into an aggressive kiss. He isn’t thinking, he’s just acting out of anger and desperation. He needed a reason to keep you in here longer. You don’t pull away, even if you know you should.

Before you know it, the both of you are caught in a steamy and aggressive make out session. His hands are moving from your face to your body, roaming it like it’s the first time. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer to you. His hands rub circles in your ass before cupping your thighs to pick you up. As if on cue, you jump up and wrap your legs around him. You’re both so in sync, his touch was enough to trigger your body to act on muscle memory.

With you wrapped around him, he walks forward to lay you on the bed. The second you hit the bed he becomes gentle with you. He was never gentle with you, at least not like this. You’re now laying under him on the bed and for once he’s not letting his gaze wander all over your body. His eyes are locked on yours, he wants you to know that nothing matters in this moment more than you. “Chris-“ you begin, but he hushes you with another kiss.

“Just you and me, baby,” he whispers, moving from your lips to your neck slowly. He undresses you slowly, not breaking eye contact with you for a second. If you tell him or give him any reason to believe you don’t want this, he’s ready to stop. Your eyes are glossed over with lust and you feel your core clench with every passing second. “Please,” you whimper, wanting nothing more than to feel him after all these months without him.

“Tell me, baby,” he encourages you to use your words, he’s ready to make you his once you say it. “I need you, Chris,” you whimper, propping yourself on your elbows as you watch him undress. Your mouth waters at the sight, this feels so different from all the other times you’ve had sex and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Even if it’s at a loud house party it feels so intimate.

He’s inside you without a warning, but he’s so gentle and slow that it sends a shiver up your spine. A moan escapes his mouth, his forehead flush with yours as he holds your neck for support. He missed you so much that he could cum just from the look on your face. Your mouth is agape, small moans slipping from you with each thrust. The feeling of him inside you is intensified by the realization that he isn’t just fucking you, he’s making love to you.

His head drops to your shoulder as he pants your name, the pleasure of you being wrapped around him sending him closer and closer to the edge. Your nipples are grazing against his chest and his pelvis is rubbing against your clit with each thrust, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure against the pillow. As you feel your climax approaching, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer. That’s what sends Chris over the edge, his hot spurts of cum filling you up before he can pull out. His groans fill the room, his arms trembling as he struggles to keep himself from falling onto you.

His hot breath grazes your neck with each moan, as he slowly rides his climax with a few more strokes inside you. You climax right after him, clenching around him repeatedly. He’s now whimpering against your neck as you clench around him, so sensitive and vulnerable to your touch. Chris stays inside you for a little longer, only using his remaining strength to lift himself off you slightly. You looks so beautiful under him, he wishes he could take a picture and keep it forever.

The moment is so precious, but you can’t help but chuckle at how you ended up here in the first place. “He’s gay by the way,” you whisper, not wanting to ruin the beautiful moment you just shared. “What?” Chris chuckles in confusion, finally pulling out of you. He lays next to you, pulling you into his body because he’s not ready to let go just yet. “My friend. He’s gay,” you respond, pushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

Chris thinks for a minute, finally remembering the friend in question. He lets out a boisterous laugh, his chest vibrating against you. “Sorry, I thought he was getting it in with my girl,” he apologizes through small chuckles. You laugh too, bringing Chris in for another quick kiss.

“Your girl?” you ask with a goofy smile, tracing mindless shapes against the arm that was wrapped around you. “My girl,” he responds with finality. He kisses you again, his arms holding you tightly against him. He’s never letting you go again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: if it’s a crime I don’t have more fics, here I give you toxic, slutty Chris. This is my first time writing smut in a longggg time so don’t be too harsh. I’m still not sure if I’m going to make it a regular thing for my stories to occasionally include smut, but this story was fun to write and very different from everything I’ve written thus far. Also, if you guys prefer Matt stories over Chris stories that’s fine I’ll write more for Matt soon. I’m also working on a PLATONIC Nick story so we’ll see when I post that. K byeeeee

- L.A.M.B 👼🏻💗

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sarahjswift · 1 year

Text

First Chapter of my New Fanfic!

Hello everyone! I have decided to write a multi-chapter fanfic series. Please don't hate me if the posting is irratic or if I stop for long periods of time lol. This is a Rowaelin spin - what is Rowan was a therapist and Aelin was his patient? I don't even know y'all 😅

HUGE thanks to all of the love shown in my previous posts but mostly to @backtobl4ck!! This person is the sweetest person ever and deserves all the love - go follow her! She has some great fics :)

Warnings: Language, descriptions of bad mental health/states, mentions of eating disorders. Enjoy!! :D

Rowan Whitethorn was a rehab therapist, but he had some shit of his own to sort out.

But every day he pushed that aside as he got ready to lead a session in what he liked to call the “Rehab Room”, a dingy and cold room, with ugly orange carpet and a circle of folding chairs. Today there were some new patients coming in, Sellene - his boss and cousin - informed him as he made his way to the Rehab Room. How nice of her to tell him when the session started in two minutes, with nowhere near enough time to look through their folders.

After he said as much, Sellene raised an eyebrow at him. She was the prettier, female version of Rowan with dark bronze skin, silver hair and piercing green eyes that mirrored his. Dressed in a v-neck black dress, she was an intimidating sight, and Rowan grumbled as he stomped to the Rehab Room.

The room was already full - or, as full as it usually was. Rowan did a quick analysis of the situation. Lucas, a regular, was chatting with one of the newbies. She was a pretty woman, with pale skin, a river of black hair, and wide, innocent eyes. But she had a haunted look about her, like she had seen too much. Next to her was a stunning woman. She had dark brown hair that rested to her shoulders and emerald green eyes. She had a hungry, animalistic way about her movements, quick and distorted. A couple others were seated, and Rowan was about to sit down when the door swung open and slammed shut. He turned.

His gaze was met with a woman. She had pale skin and golden hair, and a lean body. But as he surveyed her face, he struggled not to gasp. She had the most breathtaking eyes Rowan had ever seen. They were the most beautiful blue, framed with long, curled lashes. But - she was so, so skinny. She was so thin it hurt Rowan to look at her.

The woman clearly didn’t want to be here, and she glared at Rowan before taking a seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Rowan snapped out of his trance and cleared his throat, taking a seat across from her.

“Welcome, everyone,” he began. “My name is Rowan, and I will be your therapist for your time here at the Whitethorn Rehab Center.”

The woman with an animal-like nature raised her hand. Rowan nodded for her to speak. “Aren’t you Rowan Whitethorn? Didn’t your cousin Sellene start this place?”

Rowan closed his eyes for half a second. This came up occasionally, and everytime his patients assumed he got his job because of his cousin. He would pick a better damn paying job than this one if that was the truth - no, Rowan got here because of his own hard work. “Yes, my cousin Sellene made this place, but I assure you I didn’t get this job riding a wave of nepotism . I worked hard and studied psychology for years to get this position.”

The woman who raised her hand shrugged and slumped back in her chair, and Rowan continued on. “I thought we’d begin this session with introducing ourselves, since we do have some newbies. Just state your name, why you are here, and your…favorite animal.”

The stunning woman with beautiful eyes rolled them, but Rowan ignored it and pointed to the woman who had raised her hand. “You first, please.”

The woman heaved a sigh but said; “Hello, I’m Lysandra and I’m a drug addict. My favorite animal is a leopard.”

Next was the woman with black hair and big eyes. “I’m Elide,” she nearly whispered. “I’m bulimic.” A dark red blush spread across her cheeks, and she ducked her head. Rowan recognized her shame, and he felt sad for her. “My favorite animal is…a bumblebee? I guess? I dunno.” Rowan pitied the poor woman as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“Thank you, Elide,” Rowan said softly. Lysandra patted her shoulder and Lucas gave her a side hug. Elide sniffled and managed a smile.

They moved on to Lucas, who introduced himself as a recovering alcoholic who had been in the WRC program for a year. A woman named Tiela went and then a man named Selmer, and then it was that woman’s turn.

She raised her eyes up to Rowan, her gaze hateful. Her body language was tight and closed off, and Rowan could see her cheekbones - too much. Too, too skinny, he thought. “I’m not doing some shitty introduction,” she said. Her voice was rough, but Rowan had a feeling that wasn’t what she sounded like all the time.

He raised his chin and said in his most stern voice; “We try not to curse in this rehab group. It can be triggering for some patients.” The woman rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please state your name, your…problem…and your favorite animal.”

The woman sighed, but seemed to give in. “I’m Aelin. My favorite animal is a dog. Done.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow at her, trying not to show the thrill that had gone through him when she had said her name. Aelin. Like a song.

“I don’t have an addiction,” she snapped. “My cousin made me check in here.”

“And why is that?” Rowan asked. He knew he shouldn’t be prying, every therapist instinct was telling him to let it go, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to get to know this woman.

Aelin’s eyes dropped down to her lap and her shoulders slumped. The anger that had been in her spirit since she had come in seemed to snuff out, and Rowan felt himself think come back, stay. Don’t leave her. “My…a year ago...my fiance passed away,” Aelin said in a miserable voice. Rowan felt his stomach drop and he paled. The others in the group sucked in breaths, giving her pitying glances. “Cancer. In his stomach. I didn’t take it well. Obviously. My cousin checked me in. My favorite animal is a dog.”

____

After the session, Rowan made sure the patients got back to their rooms safely and then began the thirty minute drive home. He had felt like a pile of shit ever since Aelin’s introduction in the Rehab Room. He had fucking made her admit it, forced her too, like they had made him…

No. Don’t think about her. Not for a fucking second. Gritting his teeth, Rowan cranked up the radio, Jack Harlow filling the car. Not his favorite, but he’d take it.

After a long drive, he finally pulled into his driveway. He had a nice enough house - he was skilled at saving - but it was bland and undecorated. He walked through the house, the rooms barely full of furniture, and to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he cursed as he realized he had forgotten to go pick up groceries.

Grumbling, he grabbed an apple and began eating when he received a text. Pulling out his phone, Rowan read the message.

Lorcan: You free?

Me: nope

Lorcan: You actually not free or u don’t want to talk

Me: *shrugging emoji*

Lorcan: wow fine

Lorcan: how dare you abandon me

Lorcan: now I have to go w fenrys

Me: where

Lorcan: da club

Me: …

Me: is there food?

#throne of glass #sarah j maas #fanfic #rowaelin

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love-as-simple-as-shaving-soap · 1 year

Text

5x20 predictions

okay y’all—

i am finally jumping on the predictions-about-isabel’s-return bandwagon! if anyone cares to read, buckle in and please proceed

i went back to watch the last ep isabel was in onscreen in (i.e. 1x16)

and i am inclined to think (like many of you have already mentioned) that she is coming back to tell tim she is getting remarried. i’m not sure if she’s inviting him or not, but at the very least telling him so he doesn’t hear about it elsewhere and thank him for helping get her clean.

basically, the last convo tim and isabel had (onscreen) was at the rehab center when they decided that it was “the end” between them. tim tells her that everyone told him to let her go since she was already gone, but he held on because he couldn’t abandon her when she was so lost. but, because she wasn’t lost anymore, he had to let her go… he had to let her go to give her a fresh start away from all of the memories of the destruction her addiction caused. and of course, it was heartbreaking (hence the ep title) as they said their goodbyes and he walked away leaving her standing there.

and here’s the thing… even here with the actual act of breaking up with isabel, tim does what he has always done in his relationships on the show… he thinks more about his partner than himself. he mentions letting isabel go and doing it for her. he doesn’t mention himself and honestly, i think it’s because he isn’t really thinking about himself there… he isn’t even seeing it as them letting each other go because they both need a fresh start separately— he focuses only on what isabel needs as opposed to the both of them.

anyway, i recapped this whole bit because i think it would make sense for isabel to return and tell him she’s made the fresh start and to thank him. not just for sticking with her while she was lost, but also letting her go when she wasn’t anymore…. because he said the words that needed to be said aloud, he made that tough call that needed to be made, and because of this she is now living an amazing life that her fresh start afforded her.

also— it would be sweet for them to acknowledge that tim also needed that fresh start and that it also brought him to a “beautiful place” in the end (bonus points if there is also some light teasing about lucy being his rookie that called about his study habits way back when)

this convo would lead so well into a chenford i love you… like isabel moved on, tim moved on and they are both happy. they let each other go and were able to move forward and find the real thing again and each have a bright future ahead— full of love and promise. and i'm sure lucy will be a bit nervous about isabel showing up again... i mean, 1) she saw the way tim longed to protect isabel, to get her back and 2) she hasn't been in love the way she is with tim... he is her first serious relationship where she actually sees their future as set, while tim had that with isabel first. it would make total sense to let yourself feel insecure about that... so i think it would be really beautiful for tim to acknowledge that he made that choice to end the marriage, not just for isabel's sake, but for his own and how it brought him to a place to fall in love with lucy and to build a new future together

i’m gonna stop here for now cos i actually need to get some coursework done and i could honestly go on all day about this. i’ll probs pop back on to write another block of text about chenford or a spec fic before the next ep is out (like seriously i will spiral out about chenford and 5x20 again in the next 3 weeks several time over)

anyway… if y’all stuck through this to the end, what are your thoughts about it? would love to hear more from all of you fellow chenfordians!

#i hope they go down this route #i hate when writers bring back exes to stir up unnecessary drama (esp when shows don't have time for that shit)#bring back exes to inform characterisation and character development #not for pure shock value #like pls make it make sense at least #y'all i have half a paper to finish and i just can't believe i am so obsessed i had to write this first to make room in my brain #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #isabel bradford #the rookie #the rookie spec

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nitewrighter · 8 months

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i hate that I'm starting to get those ppl who say shit like "i know it's problematic but I can't not interact w it cuz it's my hyperfixation"

I've been in this overwatch shit since the game launched and stayed even when the fandom was dead like in 2021, and i just feel like I can't leave now even tho everything abt it makes me either sad or angry

Well like, I think it's always been kind of complicated with Overwatch because when it first dropped, everyone was crowing about its representation and its optimism, but at the beginning, so much of it was fan hype. It's never really belonged to just one person like H*rry P*tter. It started out as a completely different game, Titan, passed through god-knows-how-many hands before it dropped in 2016 and became this massive phenomenon. The first big Blizzard scandal was centered on Hearthstone, not Overwatch, and when the sexual harassment and union-busting scandals started emerging, it was clear there were still people at Blizzard who cared about Overwatch and their work on the game and the community it created, they just wanted better working conditions and workplace culture. Overwatch was never the product of one singular asshole, it's always been collaborative, and that's also why I've spent the past few days really questioning my relationship to it--because I poured a lot of myself into this community through my fanfics, and I had gained this wonderful audience from it, but the negative keeps stacking and stacking, and even if you've carved out your comfortable little niche, eventually it weighs on you more and more.

On top of it all, the game was very much designed to be addictive. The sensory overload of the game itself, the euphoria of working with a cohesive team, the exasperation of being on a shit team, the leveling systems, the sounds the game makes as you get a loot box or progress through the battlepass, the challenges and achievements, the cosmetics, the sunk cost fallacy of how much time you've already put in, the way it can be 1 in the morning but you're like "oh that last game sucked, I can't end the night on that note" like--I know it sounds ridiculous but it is a game that really worms its way into your psyche in the same way gambling can.

I think like... the first step to getting some distance from it is giving yourself permission to explore other things. One of the first steps to breaking a habit Like, for me, because I had such a narrative focus on it, I kind of joked that getting into Dune and reading 'Fire and Blood' after months of writing Overwatch fic was like doing lines of coke because my brain was going, "Holy shit, lore." I'm also lucky enough to work in a library, where my magpie brain can go into overdrive. I've been reading a lot of comics, working my way down a reading list I had been neglecting too long, and when I get an urge to play video games specifically, I play a different game like Horizon Zero Dawn or Skyrim. I found that open-world games have kind of helped my brain wean a bit off of they hyper-overstimulation of Overwatch, and it also scratches my narrative itch, too.

Basically what I'm saying is, if everything about the game is making you sad or angry, it's okay to explore other things. Don't make it about quitting, per se, make it about finding something new that makes you happier. And if you're just getting sad/stressed from it, I promise you, you are going to find something new. It might not scratch all the itches Overwatch did at first, but just be patient with yourself.

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artsyunderstudy · 2 years

Text

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ♥️

Thanks for the tag @messofthejess

I’ve only just started writing for the Simon Snow fandom, so I suppose I must rec both of them.

The Mirrors that Hold Us (Explicit)

I just started this, it’s an eighth year canon divergent fic. Simon doesn’t survive the white chapel, and both Baz and Penny are grieving. However, after a few weeks, Baz starts seeing Simon in reflections all over Watford. This fic only has one chapter posted so far, out of eight, but I’m updating every Friday. It’s also illustrated! I love it, this idea is my current favorite baby. A real lovely, angsty baby.

What Lies Behind Doorways (Mature)

This is my love letter to Baz, it centers around his trauma from his time in the coffin, and is basically just a character exploration revolving around PTSD and intimacy. It weaves through canon. Probably my favorite one-shot I’ve ever written ... maybe just my favorite thing.

Paint and Ink (Explicit)

This is technically three fics, and it is the sweetest shit I’ve ever written. And I love it. I actually go back and re-read this for fun, just to revisit it. It’s for the SPN fandom, but it’s a full AU so honestly, even if you don’t like the ship it kind of stands on its own. The story revolves around Cas, an art student, and Dean a tattoo artist, and it explores their budding relationship as Dean models for Cas’ art pieces.

It’s a very tactile piece (also somehow a christmas story, I forgot that), because he does plaster castings of dean’s body, but it’s also very tender. They are both lonely in their own way, and find peace with each other. The later two fics revolve around their developing relationship, dealing with Cas’ inattentiveness due to his dedication to art, and then in the last one dealing with the weight of familial expectations, contrasting dean’s supportive relationship with his brother and cas’ cold mother who doesn’t agree with his lifestyle, both personal and professional. Basically I love this series? I am tempted to rewrite it for snowbaz, that’s how much I love it. I probably won’t but I’d love to do something similar.

Plus it’s got some really fun smut. (not to toot my own horn) (or maybe I should. thats the point of this.)

Sex is Weird (Explicit)

It does what’s on the tin. A quick one-shot about that switch between new relationship sex and comfortable, long term-relationship sex. And finding easy love with one another. Also SPN, canon (as canon as it gets).

Blackbird Fly (Explicit)

I mean, I gotta. This is the biggest thing I ever did. It’s a beast. Not perfect, probably ridiculous. It’s got everything! Angst, bad sex, good sex, drugs, the mob, BDSM, lots and lots and LOTS of classic rock song references. But, for real, I genuinely loved how I explored the ideas of trauma recovery, addiction, forgiveness, and found family in this.

Also, man, did this one make people yell at me. SO much yelling. And weeping. Also SPN, full AU.

Tagging @whatevertheweather @cutestkilla @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl @johnwgrey

#fic rec #personal #artsyfic

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

Flaws

Written for @honeysucklesteve’s 4k writing challenge! If you haven’t, go check her out because she’s amazing!

Pairing: Mickey Henry x fem!Reader

Summary: You hate his music taste. He hates yours. You have a bad habit of stealing his gigs. He has a bad habit of fucking you until you can’t walk straight. Everyone has flaws. What are you to do about it?

Word Count: 3822

Warnings: Cursing, hate sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, slight edging, there’s a mirror involved, drugs, alcohol, clubbing, smoking, one mention of lung cancer, mentions of Monday’s plot, so slight spoilers; (I hope I’m not forgetting anything. These kinds of warnings are new to me. If I am, feel free to tell me.)

18+ PLEASE!!! MINORS DNI!!!

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, but here you go! I’m so nervous about posting this. Honestly. I feel like I kinda rushed it a little? I dunno if it’s good. Uhm, I will say that Mickey is not soft in this. You know how he’s all cute and flirty in the movie? Yeah. Not here. I have plans to write for him later on where he’s more on character and adorable and all that, but it’s enemies to lovers and he hates reader and reader hates him. So. Yeah. Have fun with that.

This is a few firsts for me; first published smut, first Mickey Henry fic, and first enemies-to-lovers ever! I’m attached to friends-to-lovers (my parents’ fault), so going in the opposite direction is exciting and I hope it works out! (We’ll see what it can become after it’s been written.)

Also! Yes, I’m adding the link to the inspiration of the remix here. You’ll see what I’m talking about. I imagine more bass, but that’s basically it.

As always, all mistakes are mine and please excuse them as it’s not beta’d! Be kind to yourselves and others! Stay tuned and enjoy!

Part Two - Addictions

My Masterlist

*****

Between the tumultuous, voice losing cheers and the pounding, headache inducing bass, it’s a miracle the occupants of the building can hear anything at all. The large room is doused in bright pinks, purples and blues, glitter getting into every pore and crack, the smell of cigarette smoke and booze lingering in the air.

Bodies pressed together uncomfortably tight, breath and sweat mixing in a way that can’t be enjoyable, but no one notices because they’re all too high and drunk. There’s a couple swallowing each other in every dark corner of the room. A group of guys looking to get some are laughing rather obnoxiously at the bar, having consumed far too much alcohol to be safe.

Bouncers are escorting people out left and right; a streaker who decided to get on a table and dance, a couple who took it a bit too far over the bar counter, a group of girls who were no doubt too young to be in such an environment. Boisterous, chaotic, borderline dangerous.

There’s no place he’d rather be on a Friday night.

Up on the center stage, playing around with his tracks, messing with the turntables, pulse connecting to the music, head bobbing with the beat. He’s in control.

Every party. Every Friday, Saturday, Sunday night. Every weekend.

He’s in control.

It’s what he liked so much about doing what he does. Once he’s booked, he’s booked. It’s his night. He controls the sounds people hear. He controls what they dance to. How they dance. The pace of the night. The feeling of the night. And no one can take it away from him.

No one, that is, except you.

He hears you before he sees you, which is nearly impossible considering how loud the music is, but you somehow manage to take control of the room the moment you walk in it. You always get what you want with a bat of your eyelashes. And if you aren’t given it, you take what you want without regard for other people.

It really really pisses him off.

You’re laughing with a group of your friends, guys and girls’ heads swiveling to stare at you, captivating every heart in the room as per usual. You always show up with the same group, but he doesn’t even know any of their names even though you run in the same circles. It’s not like you end up hanging out with them for long, and you never leave with them. No, no. You always leave with him.

And that pissed him off too.

He can’t help it. He has absolutely no control over himself when it comes to you. And he hates you for it. He hates that he lets you take over with only a few snarky comments in his defense. He hates that you always get into his head. And he hates that you’re the best fuck he’d ever had and he can never get enough of you.

But most of all…he hates your music.

“Hey, hey! There he is!” You send him that infuriating smile of yours, a drink in your hand. It’s a flaw of yours. One of many, but probably the biggest. Alcohol. Like him and his cigarettes. He watches you with narrowed eyes as you effortlessly move through the crowd, your girls and guys seeming to vanish into the mob with every step you take.

You end up in front of the stage, leaning on it and giving him a smirk as you sip on your beverage choice of the night. It’s always something different. The only common factor is the alcohol you crave, letting it wash over your tongue, burn down your throat and slip into your veins.

“Heya, Mouse!”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts with a growl over the music, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I got called this morning! Said there was a gig tonight!”

He shakes his head, gesturing to the set up. “You’re a bit too late there, sunshine! Gig’s booked!”

You shake your head back at him. “I’m taking over from here, Mouse!”

“Says who?!”

“Argyris!”

His jaw clenches, his forehead creasing, a skeptical scoff leaving his lips. “Fuck you! No he didn’t! He said this one’s mine!”

You just give a shrug, no cares in the world, downing the rest of your drink. “You can fuck me later! For now, if you wanna whine about it, Daddy’s over there!”

Another growl leaves his chest as he scowls at you, eyes darting to where you’re pointing. Argyris is by the bar, of course, swaying on the seat. Barking out a laugh, he looks at you with a shake of his head. “He’s so drunk he probably shit himself again! You can’t take his word for it!”

“I can when he called me this morning, sober as he can get!” You shoot back, hopping up to stand besides him. “Besides! Someone’s gotta make sure these people have an actual good time!”

“Don’t touch anything until I get back!” He snaps, pointing warningly at you as he starts to walk towards Argyris.

You smile innocently, even though he knows you’re anything but. “Yes, sir!”

He marches over to his asshole friend and grabs him by the shirt, turning him around. “Mickey! Havin’ a good time?!”

Mickey glares, feeling his blood boil and his ears heat up, not from the proximity of strangers around him. “What the fuck?! You told sunshine over there that she could have my gig?!”

“I thought you’d wanna break! Dance and relax for a little bit! It’s only a two hour slot I gave her!”

“You should’ve fucking asked, Argyris! I don’t want her anywhere near my-” His sentence is cut off by a change in the music and he whips over to the stage where you’re grinning and jumping with the crowd. You catch his eye and throw him a wink, holding one of the headphone cups over your ear. “ Oh for the love of - she’s messing with my stuff!”

“I thought you liked her!”

Spluttering, Mickey gapes at the other man in disbelief. “Like her? I can’t stand her! She’s so fucking annoying!”

“What’s so annoying about her?!”

Mickey snatches the drink Argyris was about to gulp down and slams it on the counter. “She’s a spoiled fucking brat! Everyone lets her do whatever she wants! She steals half my fucking gigs! And her music is shit! Listen to this!”

Argyris looks around the room and shrugs. “Everyone else seems to like it! Sure it’s different than your disco-”

“It’s not disco!”

“But it’s a crowd pleaser! Just relax! Have a drink and go dance!”

“Argyris!” Wanting to scream in frustration, he watches the man stumble off to get another drink down the bar. “Dammit! This is fucking shit.” Grumbling to himself, Mickey storms back over to the stage, easily pulling himself up.

You bite your lip and raise an eyebrow at him. “So?! How’d your date with Argyris go?!”

“I hate you so fucking much! Use your own fucking headphones!” He snatches the pair from your neck, pulling the cord out. “Why do you always have to steal my gigs?!”

You shrug, leaning forwards to brush your lips against his ear. “Yours are so much fun.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyebrows furrowing. This always happens. Every time. The moment he feels in control, you do something and he feels every ounce of himself slipping away. It’s the reason he fucks you. To take back that control he so easily gives to you. To make sure you understand that on the weekends, he’s in charge.

But not tonight. No, no. Not tonight. He refuses to get caught up in that game tonight. You wouldn’t end up in an alley or some bathroom with him. He wouldn’t end up on your couch or in his kitchen with you. He refuses to let it happen. Again.

Instead, he lets out a chuckle and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Whatever sunshine.” He takes a step back, giving you a smirk as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You have fun playing your shitty music!”

“Have fun moping!” You call back, turning to the table and ignoring him completely as he groans and jumps off the stage.

Good God. You’re infuriating.

But so is he.

You hate Mickey Henry. You just do. You hate that he has zero responsibilities and gets away with it. You hate that he can charm his way out of any situation. You hate how immature he is and how no one ever forces him to grow up. And you hate how easily you let him take charge when he’s with you. After a life full of people making choices for you, you crave control, but with him? The moment he tells you to get on your knees, you fall, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.

But most of all…you hate his music.

You take his gigs to save people from listening to it, but also so he knows he can’t talk every situation into his favor. That Argyris can’t always take care of his job for him. He never checks up on gigs once Argyris tells him he has them. So it’s really his fault for not taking some responsibility.

Watching from the stage as your music flows through you, vibrating your bones and sinking into your skin, you’re not surprised to see him get out a cigarette as he heads to a mutual acquaintance of yours. He has many flaws, but that’s a major one. Like you and your alcohol. Him and his cigarettes. You wouldn’t be surprised if you learn a couple months from now that he has lung cancer.

Mickey is talking low to the guy and you already know what’s going on. That was a flaw you both shared. Drugs. He is much more intense than you though. While you’d be fine with some pot, he almost always hits hard with cocaine. Not that you’re innocent from that type yourself - you’d done it multiple times with the man himself if you ended up at each other’s place. Never in the bedroom. You never made it that far, and you don’t really care to. But after those times bent over the table, being pounded into the couch, hanging against the wall, you’d get high with him before one of you takes off.

You’re not exactly sure what happened earlier. You were a bit shocked when he stepped away. Not that you usually left so early, but he didn’t even stay to bicker some more.

Not that you care. You’re just…curious. Maybe he’s finally growing tired of the game you’ve been playing. You’ve been playing it for a few years now. With that weird little pause last year.

You actually thought he had changed.

Having run into him at a party, you prepared yourself for the arguing that no doubt would end in sex. But it didn’t. It didn’t even start. He was with someone. Like, steady with someone. As in dating someone. Living with her. To the point where his baby mama actually agreed to let him keep his boy in their apartment as long as they were together.

It was a weird six months. You two actually had real conversations. You knew how soft and goofy he could get; you had loads of mutual friends and often went to the same parties so you’d seen that side of him. It was just…odd because it never came out with you. But it did then. And you…liked it. You didn’t see him as often, especially once his kid was cleared to live with them. He stopped going out on weekends, started just attending the small shindigs your friends hosted, worked from home instead of DJing.

But then his girl - what was her name? Claire? Caitie? You can’t remember - left for a job in the States just a few months ago and he was back to square one. His baby mama took back the custody privileges, he went back to partying every weekend, and you fell right back into your petty bickering and rough fucking.

You feel bad. Really, you do. You heard that he’d actually loved that chick. And you know he wanted to see his kid more. You knew about the room at his place. But that almost made you hate him more. That he went right back to his old self. He didn’t even try. He got a taste of being a responsible adult, and then let it go.

Because no matter how hard people try, flaws are flaws. And no one can change that much.

As the night goes on, more booze enters your system, while more cocaine enters his. There’s the occasional glare or immature finger raising between you two. Mickey even sticks his tongue out at you while dancing with some broad, a smirk lifting up the corners of his mouth as yours twist down and your eyes roll.

Your features quickly morph into smug amusement as an idea pops into your head and his eyes narrow. What are you up to? He quickly finds out as you stop the music and bring a microphone to your lips.

“Hey, hey, party people! Everyone’s night going fantastic?!” Cheers are your response. Mickey scowls, not liking where this is going, and starts heading your way. You wink at him. “I’m gonna change it up for just this one song! It’s a dedication song to a good friend of mine! It’s a bit different than the usual stuff, but it’s a bop, I promise! Here’s to the Mouse!”

He immediately freezes as the song starts. “Meeska! Mooska! Mickey Mouse!” He feels his face heat up, his fists balling up at his sides, glaring at you and your shit eating grin as you roll your body to the beat, his feet taking him to the stage.

Effortlessly lifting himself onto it once more, he grabs both your wrists in one of his larger ones to stop the music without you interfering, his rings digging into your skin. “Aww! But, Mouse! We didn’t even get to the roll call!”

“Shut. Up.” He grits out through clenched teeth, putting something else on absentmindedly. He didn’t want Argyris on his ass later for leaving the crowd without music. “God. Stop being a fucking pain in my fucking ass for one fucking minute.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s pulling you away before you can reply. Next thing you know he’s shoving you into the bathroom, growling at the girls that were smoking up the place to get out.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you, princess?” He hisses in your ear, slamming you against the door once the girls left. He’s so tired of giving in to you, but he can’t help it, crashing his lips against yours messily. Teeth and tongue, the taste of smoke and the fruity drink you had chosen for the night mixing, only making him press closer. Your hands get pinned above your head and he’s pulling your skirt up, bunching it at your waist. It’s rough and careless and fueled by loathing, but when is it not? “Think you’re so funny? Huh?”

“Yeah.” You breath, smirking as he slots a thigh between your legs, squeezing your hips and pressing you down against him, flexing the muscle and making you squirm.

His teeth are biting at your bottom lip and tugging, his hands dragging your clothed core along his thigh. “Let’s see how funny you think you are when I’m fucking you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your breath hitches and your hands previously above your head clutch onto his shirt at the friction against your clit. It’s not enough and he knows, but you don’t tell him. “All this over a silly song?” You jest.

He sneers back at you, ignoring your tease. “Did you get jealous, sunshine? Is that what happened? Is that why you decided to be a little shit?”

“Jealous?” You scoff as he attacks your neck, your hands quickly undoing his belt before he shoves his pants down, his briefs following along with your panties. “Jealous of you, maybe. That girl was hot. Way outta your lea - oh shit.”

You always forget how deep he reaches inside you, how much the stretch is. He’s not soft about it, entering you in one swift thrust, your hips connecting. His hands are dimpling your bare thighs, hefting you up so your legs wrap around his waist, rings on his fingers no doubt making imprints. The door against your back starts rattling with every movement, but the music outside was too loud for anyone to hear it.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He snaps in time with his hips. He can feel you tightening around him, your fingers dragging down his chest, trying desperately to pull his shirt off.

“C’mon, Mouse. That's all you got?” You pant out, a little whine leaving your lips when he leaves you suddenly, dropping you to your feet. “Mickey! What-”

He cuts you off by pushing you against the counter, a shout leaving your lip when he takes you from behind, making you surge forwards, your head almost hitting the mirror, pelvis hitting your ass with every piston of his hips. His hand is tangled in your hair and he tugs, making your head snap up. “Look at you. So fucked out. I did that. I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had and we both know it.” He isn’t wrong. Your makeup’s a mess, your hair is wrapped around his fingers.

“You’re the one who keeps fucking me.” You argue back, your spine arching as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Over and over and over.

He growls, leaning forwards to fold over you, his lips by your ear. “And who keep being a fucking brat? Huh? Who keeps coming to my gigs, fucking up my weekend? Practically begging me to fuck you.”

You scowl at him in the mirror. “I don’t beg.”

The chuckle that leaves his lips makes you shiver and you whimper when he tugs your hair harder, the sting of your scalp mixing with the pleasure his cock was giving you.

“You will. You may get everything you want from everyone else, princess, but I’m in charge here. Don’t. You. Forget.” His words are punctuated with a hard thrust, making you lurch forwards, your thighs pressing harshly against the counter.

“Oh God…Mickey,” that familiar tightness in your stomach appears, your eye clenching shut as your toes curl. “I’m so close…”

“Open your goddamn eyes. Look who’s doing this to you. Who fucking owns this pussy? Huh?”

Your eyes snap open and meet his again, his breaths fanning across your face, rapidly becoming less steady. “You.”

“That’s right. You wanna cum, sunshine?” You nod vigorously. He takes your lobe between his teeth and tugs as he stills his hips, keeping himself inside you. “Then beg.”

And, just like the many times before, you do. You do because you don’t actually care about begging. You care about him ruining you. That’s what you want. And you always get what you want. Fuck your dignity.

He starts up slowly again as you plead, stopping a couple more times when you feel yourself getting close. “Mickey! Please, for the love of God!” He’s never edged you this much. Not this intensely. And not in the bathroom at a club. Usually it’s just a quickie before you take him home or vice versa.

But you pissed him off tonight. More so than usual. It was a good night and then you came along. Took his job. Played that dumb song. So he needs to remind you. Put you in your place. “You may be spoiled by everyone else, princess, but I’m the only one who can give you what you really want.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” You grind out through your clenched teeth.

He just smirks. “That wasn’t a denial. Let go, Y/N. Make a mess of my cock. Watch yourself fall apart for me.”

You do as he says, watching your jaw go slack in a silent scream, your body tensing, your legs shaking, as he finally lets you have what you want. Body going slack against the counter, he keeps rutting into you until he groans, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he spills inside you.

The both of you stay there, with him folded on top of you, his forehead resting against the nape of your neck, his grip on your hair loosening.

“That was fun. A little different.” You hum as he gets up. He’s glaring at you as you straighten and fix yourself. “Good orgasm though, so thanks for that. But I gotta get back to work now.”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” He mutters, tucking himself away and pulling his pants up.

“Kinky. Maybe next time.” You wink at him through the mirror and his jaw ticks. He’s so fucking tired of it. Of you. How you let him have that one bit of control and then your right back to controlling the room once you get what you want. There’s so many nights where he wonders if he should just stop giving it to you. But then he’s inside you and he can’t help himself.

He watches you touch yourself up, although you still look thoroughly fucked, but you don’t seem to mind. This is new. You going back to the gig you stole after sex. He wonders if that was the last time for tonight, or if you’d be leaving together later too.

“I fucking hate you.” He spits out as you open the door, wanting to get the last word in.

You just smirk the same way he did to you earlier. “Yeah…but you love fucking me. Later, Mouse.”

Just like always, you’re the last comment as you walk out nonchalantly, even though he could see the slight wobble in your steps, the door shutting behind you, leaving him alone.

You hate Mickey Henry. You loathe him. You wish you never met him. But you can’t get enough. No matter how many times you convince yourself you have him where you want him, you know you don’t. You’d let him do anything to you. But you can’t stop. Like him and his cigarettes. He’s your flaw. And no matter how bad he is for you, you’re addicted.

Mickey Henry hates you. He loathes you. He wishes he never met you. But he can’t get enough. No matter how many times he convinces himself he’s in control, he knows he’s not. He always gives you what you want at the end of the day. But he can’t stop. Like you and your alcohol. You’re his flaw. And no matter how bad it is for him, he’s addicted.

*****

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westcoastrry · 3 years

Text

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

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.

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.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #haryr styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles angst #mafia!harry #harry styles mafia #harry styles x oc #harry styles x woc #harrystyles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #ha

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perdidosbucky-yyo · 2 years

Text

Tew Noitanicullah

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (no mention of body type or ethnicity)

Summary: What started like a great day for Bucky Barnes ended up a complete nighmare

Word count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW, a lot of cursing, dirty talk, smut, masturbation (fem), use of sex toys, dry humping, handjob (male receiving), penile fracture, abs riding, blood.

a/n: I was listening to this song (childhood jewl) and this is what happened hahaha, this fic is freaky in every sense of the word, like a bad porno lmao but I had a blast writing this! Also, this my first time writing smut, is it obvious? Let me know in the comments! XD likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged <3

likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply encouraged <3

Bucky wanted to find a place where he could read his books and find new ones, since the library he often visited shut down, Steve knew the perfect place, your bookshop. Bucky now cursed himself for trying to figure out what color your panties would be under the green vintage grid-pattern skirt you were wearing as you bent over to pick up your fallen glasses, your ass perfectly visible for him to gawk at. The moment he walked in and laid eyes on you he had to hold on to something, his throat went dry and limbs numb. For hours he’d been watching you running around the shop, one task after another, looking cute as hell he thought. Once you stood and put your red glasses on he willed himself to look away, lucky for him you didn’t notice his intense staring… or at least he thought you didn’t.

The sun was just starting to settle, but he still had a few hours to indulge his new-found obsession. Bucky remained in a lawson mustard chair he had been pretending to read on for the last hour, waiting for you to come out of your office, you’d been in there for a while now but the shop was dead silent, empty (except for him), plus you had cameras, you had no reason to come out and just as he was about to get up and leave you broke the silence.

Sounds that he couldn’t pin down came out of your office, so faint no one would’ve been able to hear them, thanks to the super soldier serum, he could. As he slowly approached your office door his whole face turned bright red, you were panting and… moaning?! Bucky’s jaw slacked, he couldn’t believe his fucking ears, unable to control himself he opened the door as quiet as possible, the sight before him was one that had his brain short circuit.

You were sitting on the edge of your dark wood desk, long skirt rolled up to your waist, leaning back, holding yourself with your arm, hand gripping the desk, turning your knuckles white, while the other disappeared between your legs.

At a loss for words the man gulped, heart thumping incessantly, feeling like it might jump out out of his rib cage, as he took a hesitant step forward you finally turned around, if you weren’t dripping wet before you definetely were now, his icy blue eyes pierced you, the red henley he was wearing made him all the more appealing. As your fingers played with your bundle of nerves, a wicked smile crossed your face “What took you so long?”.

The only thing that stopped Bucky from taking you on that desk was the fact that he enjoyed watching pleasure yourself, it was addicting, your not so quiet moans sending chills down his spine, the way your breasts bounced as your pace quickened, made him bite down a moan, “Cookie monster wants a taste test? Be a good boy and I’ll show you the rest”, his cock twitched at your words.

“FUCK I’ll do whatever you want” Bucky mumbled Through his teeth , he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, watching him struggle made something inside you snap, reaching your climax you tilted your head back, laughs between heavy breathing. At the center of those perfect blue eyes there was darkness, purpose, a hunger that scared you in the best way, as he walked towards you, you sat up right letting your skirt fall down, not taking your eyes off of him, “My little voyeour wants to play explorer? You bit your lip trying to hide a smirk. Just a few inches separating the two of you, a sultry chuckle left his mouth as he hooked two fingers around your black turtle neck and with one pull slammed you to his chest, an oomph escaping your lips you smiled. Taking your rist Bucky brought your slick covered fingers to his mouth, your pussy undeniably throbbed, savouring you, Bucky closed his eyes, taking in your sweet musky taste, all you could do was watch in awe, once he released your fingers with an exaggerated pop, he licked his lips “Tasty”.

Proud to have gotten a taste of his now favorite librarian, Bucky left your bookshop with a shit eating grin, walking on clouds, the sky was dark and he had the perfect view of the city from high above, it’s lights were almost coming to life, blinding and dizzying… chasing him, wanting to consume him. After walking a few blocks he finally got to his car which was not stuck, weird for New York but recent events proved that tonight was Bucky’s lucky night.

Leaning back on the drivers seat with a content sigh he closed his eyes, only for them to peel back open as he felt a slick-rough lick on his cheek, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of drool sliding down his face, inmediately jerking back he sees you on the back seat, wicked grin etched on your face, legs crossed, you wore a black leather bodysuit, gloves and thigh high boots, shining under the moon light, without giving him a moment to even think you pulled back his seat as low as it could go and jumped to straddle his waist.

Not being able to move, Bucky let out a breathy laugh “left you wanting more kitten?” he teased, instantly regretting it as you gripped a bunch of his hair and yanked his head back, making him let out a pained gasp, shock took the form of a knot in his throat, making his adam’s apple bob. “Shut the fuck up” you seethed, “You will reffer to me as Mistress” you murmored in his ear, sending chills down his spine “And that is the only word you’re allowed to speak scream, disobey me and you will be punished” you said sternly as your long black nails sunk into his stretched neck “Am I understood?”, he was about to answer but as soon as he felt your grip on his hair tighten he bit his lower lip and nodded.

For Bucky, time slowed, for all he knew the world had stopped moving and time itself ceased to exist. Red henley discarded long ago, you unclipped his nipple to tease him with your tongue, a mix of pain and relief made him hiss through his teeth, you hummed as you placed back the nipple clamp, instantly bucking his hips, his buldge made contact with your clothed core, entranced by the intensity in your eyes, lust consumed the both of you.

Before he could think twice his hands landed on your waist and his fingers seeked your entrance “n-need to f-feel you” he whined, you almost took pity on him… almost, you ripped his hands off of you and crashed your lips with his, an all consuming kiss that was anything but tender. Not a single fiber of his being wanted to fight you, he gladly submitted, he found it strange that for 70 years he resisted Hydra, but he’d give you control over him in a second. As each of your hands added pressure to the clamps an agressive mewl escaped him, once you released him from the kiss, Bucky’s mouth was covered in your lipstick, lips were so shiny and swolen you couldn’t help but kiss him again, nibbling his bottom lip, leaving him a whimpering mess.

Out of fucking thin air a gag collar appeared on your hands, breath cought in his throat, waiting to see what you would do next, his eyes led him to your moving hips, “You wanna pet my kitty?” you purred as you encreased the friction between his hardened buldge and your cunt, he swallowed a plea and desperatelly nodded, he wasn’t planning on speaking, you were just starting to give him bread crumbs, “such a dirty doggie” you moaned as you moved back and forth on his crotch and placed the gag on his mouth.

Agressively grinding down on him, Bucky’s eyes were on the verge of tears, different sensations overwhelming him, he was so so close, and your trash talk only took him closer to the edge, “Fucking pathetic” you whispered as you slammed your hand on the window to hold on. The air was hot and steamy, drool dripping down his chin, windows tarnished, small moans, desperate whines and the squeaking of your leather clothes filled the car, Just as he was about to cum in his pants, a deafening knock on the car window echoed through him, a ringing in his ears encreased by the second.

Once you timidly stepped out of the car like you were asked to, officer Barnes cuffed and pushed you inside the cop car. Putting out his cigarette, officer Rogers shook his head in dissappointment “they never learn do they?”, Bucky took off his peaked hat and chuckled as he started the engine, “I think this one’s smart”, he said with a smug smile and glanced at you through the rear-view mirror, fucking bastard looked like he enjoyed getting his hands on you, you wanted to hate him but if you were being honest those eyes of his were making it pretty damn hard.

Arrested for lewd acts and indecent exposure, fucking great. Wearing an NYPD sweatshirt and nothing else, you sat in a weirdly squeaky clean jail cell, waiting for them to let you make your phone call.

With no one around, impatience got the best of you, pacing around the room like a caged tiger you stopped, hand went to your mouth to stop a scream. Heartbeat rising, throat went dry, frozen in place, it couldn’t be, you gotta be fucking hallucinating because there just couldn’t be a god damn wolf outside your cell… cold blue eyes glowing, watching you, white fur smeared with blood as it dripped from it’s jaw, the animal infront of you scared you, it clearly had a taste for blood, an aura of death surrounded him but… those eyes, the way they looked at you, it made your whole body vibrate, somehow you knew that this wolf was there to protect you but fear always has a way of getting the best of us, as the predator took a step forward you closed your eyes and cried for help “MONSTER!”.

After what felt like an eternity of complete silence, a croaky voice came into your earshot “Not a monster, just lil’ old me” he chuckled, “a fucking god” you thought to yourself as you admired his physique, 6’4 of pure dominance, not an ounce of hesitance or doubt in his stance, blue uniform embraced his muscles almost a little too tight but given his attitude that was intentional.

Frown on your face snapping out of your thoughts you shook your head and sat “I want my fucking phone call”, perfectly aware of your blatant staring Bucky leaned back on the wall “still haven’t processed your papers doll, office’s… out of ink, could take a while”, given by his stupid cocky face you doubt it “well, until then, fuck off” you said, not letting your true emotions rise to the surface, pushing himself off the wall officer barnes sighed “tsk-tsk-tsk you shoud watch that mouth of yours, remember who you’re talking to”, his words came out like honey, they should’ve made you want to retaliate but you only felt butterflies in your stomach.

“I could help you out you know, speed the process, or maybe those papers could get lost if there even is paperwork… I could use a hand though” he murmored and licked his pink lips, not taking his eyes off of yours, he knew you, he wanted you and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him… “fuck this is so wrong” you whispered mostly to yourself but he heard it and it only seemed to egg him on. Closing your cell behind him he walked towards you until you were but inches apart, he had her right where he wanted to, caressing your cheek with his knuckles your eyes couldn’t help but flutter close, he radiated warmth, and in a way he was comforting.

He gently kissed you in the forehead, “c’mon” your left cheek, “sweetheart” right cheek, “love me the way you know you want to” and finally your nose, the tenderness he was giving you was everything you needed to spark a flame inside of you, trying to supress a whimper your hands flew to his neck and you pulled him in for a kiss, hard and needy, his hands wandered your frame, in a dance of tongues you could taste him, the smell of sandal wood and chocolate filled you, he was addicting, the need to consume him overtook you.

Feeling like time might run out, you unfastened his buckle hastily, swiftly pulling out his semi-hard cock you broke the kiss to breathe and look at his bigger than average dick, getting a good grip on it you stroked his leaking tip with your thumb, "that's it baby, touch it, it's y-ours, t-touch it" he breathed out, almost sounding desperate. Once you spat on the base plus his precum you were able to set a pace, nice and slow, “Fuck baby, your hand feels so good, bet it don’t compare to your sweet pussy though” he panted in your ear, earning himself a moan from you.

Bucky left hot open kisses on your neck and jaw, his moustache left an incredible burn on your flushed skin, the sounds you were dragging out of him were delicious, his pleasure was your pleasure. Kissing your temple between quiet moans he gripped your hair and pulled your head back to get a look at you “looks like you’re the one getting fucked sweetheart” he teased, pulling you closer, his free hand went between your thighs, getting his fingers nice and wet he growled “look at ya, already a fucking mess for me, where did the tiger go eh? go on doll, finish what ya started”.

Pushing you against the wall, hands on the sides of your head, caging you he attacked your lips and you continued jerking him off, adding pressure and speed Bucky grunted against your lips, almost bringing you to your knees, pulling back from your pretty bruised lips he pushed up the sweetshirt like a mad man, “I’mabouttocum doll, Ineedto mark those thighsofyours” he gasped, barely getting the words out, prominent veins on his neck, you desperately nodded and assaulted his dick with incredible strenght going as fast as you could, wet sounds and his grunts echoed in the air, your knuckles turned white, the second you panted in his ear he snapped, guttoral moan escaping his lips, spurts of cum flew off his swollen and throbbing cock, landing on your soft thighs, staining your cute black panties. Using his spent you easily continued, pace not faltering, resting his forehead on yours, you tried a new angle.

and just like that…

it went from pure bliss.

to horror.

A terrible crack shattered the sound barrier, along with an agonizing scream from Bucky, the fuzzy feeling on your brain replaced by burning guilt. He was in too much pain to even hear your apologies, a single tear slipping down his face as he watched his discolored and bent penis.

“You’re a fucking monster”

Beep

“you’ll break her”

Beep

“what makes you think she even likes you?”

Beep

“Hi” you whispered, smile bright red and big as ever, your presence alone tunned out the hospital sounds, an aura of pure light followed you, you were all that mattered to him.“Hi” he responded with a sleepy smile, his brain still foggy from the meds “How’s my beautiful man doing?”, Bucky’s heart almost jumped out of his chest at your words, and the heart monitor didn’t let him lie.

Walking to his side not missing the way his eyes followed your every move you checked his chart, “still groggy, and so fucking sore” he groaned. You took off the stethoscope from around your neck and placed it on the wheeled bed tray table, once you pushed it aside you carefully laid beside him, gently placing your head on his chest; there was something so peaceful about hearing his heart, proof that he was alive, each thump brought you comfort.

As you felt his chest rise and fall more rapidly you could’t help but smile, “I can tell you’re obsessed by your shortness of breath baby” you hummed, God, you could kiss him to death, he slowly brought his hand to your hair and stroked it “how could I not be doll? You’re so sweet… I could just eat you” he cooed.

Raising your head to look at him you gasped a little bit, the shining, the perfect blue skies in his eyes never failed to surprise you, “let me make you feel better” you whined as you kissed his cheek, with a tight lip smile he brushed a hair out of your face “you don’t have to sweetheart”, craddling your head with his hands he pressed your foreheads together “you’re all I need” he said with all honesty and sincerity. You weren’t ready to process what you heard, of course you felt the same way but to admit it is to give life a chance to take it all away, a chance for your heart to join with his only for them to inevitably tear apart.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I am your nurse, it is my job to make you feel better! Now don’t be and old goat and let me do it” you said with your nose adorably scrunched, not being able to hold back a grin Bucky laughed as he took your nursing cap and threw it away “Fiiiine” he rolled his eyes playfully, “ride my abdomen, use me” he commanded with a slap to your ass, dumbfounded, your mouth slacked, “baby”, you sighed “I’ll hurt you, I’m supossed to make YOU feel good”, without warning he grabbed you by the waist and helped you straddle him “don’t you worry about me doll, just do as you’re told” he smirked.

Cheeks red you let him pull down your zipper, exposing your red lacy bralette to him, licking his lips he released your breasts from their confinement and inmediatelly took one into his mouth, tongue swirling against your areola and nipple, teeth gently grazing making you shuddder as his other hand tweaked with your other nipple, “start moving doll” he said with his mouth full, your giggle stopped as his teeth bit hard enough to elicit a moan out of you.

One hand on his shoulder and the other moving your scrub dress out of the way to move your laced panties aside, your hips languidly moved back and forth, “that’s it sweetheart, use me, fuck you feel so soft”, his encouraging words sent electricity through out your whole body.

Leaving hot-wet kisses around your breasts and neck Bucky took your waist and helped you grind on him, clit throbbing more and more with each stroke you dug your nails into his shoulder “fuck-fuck-fuck I’m not gonna last baby” you mewled in his ear as the pace quickened “doll if you keep making those pretty noises I might come too” he panted.

Watching your hands on his shoulders he noticed a rash in your forearms but fuck, you looked so beautiful all sweaty and face contorted that he easily waved it off, skin burning hot, sweat dripping down your neck, your climax was near “go on sweetheart, be a good girl and let go for me”, and in one, two, three more strokes the knot in your belly let go, making you almost scream, creaming all over his delicous abs.

Collapsing on his chest you sighed in pure and utter bliss, chuckling he rubbed your back “how you feelin’ doll?”, rising your head to answer him, his heart almost stopped, your skin had red patches all over, turning more and more red by the second “what’s wrong baby?”, Bucky shook his head “w-we need to call a doctor, now!”, you responded with a tight lip smile “does blood scare you Bucky?” you asked as your now red skin melted like butter, “w-wh-what are you talking about? Sweetheart what’s happening?” he said with a strained voice, tears in his eyes “don’t act surpised Bucky”, your body ceased to be and you were now just a blood clot, your face features slowly dissappearing “you knew one day the trail of blood you left behind would catch up with you”… an excruciatingly painful second later you slipped through his arms and completely soaked him with blood, he sobbed as he downed in it.

Gaspisng for air Bucky Barnes opened his eyes back to reality, laying down in the common area couch, taking in his sorroundings, though blurred vision he sees you walking into the room, wearing your blue leather suit, a little bruised and hair disheveled, probably just returning from a mission.

Dropping your bag you placed your hands on your waist “You look like crap Barnes” you laughed, he felt like crap, covered in sweat and freezing, dry throat, he couldn’t even move a muscle if he wanted to.

Seeing that he didn’t respond with a sarcastic comment you frowned and walked towards him, hesitantly leaning in, you placed your hand on his forehead, your cool hand brought him slight relief but he said nothing, “you’re really warm, “Dum- E!”you shouted, bot raced towards you “what’s his temperature?”, once the bot scanned him, 108° in bold red appeared on the screen, “Jesus! We need to get Dr. Cho, shit shit shit, don’t move” you cringed as you realised what you just said “I-I’ll be right back” but before you could leave he grabbed your hand.

Despite the hallucination he just had, your presence always soothed him, if anything he now realized that he loved you and he never wanted you to leave his side. Yes, he wasn’t innocent, he has decades of trauma to deal with and perhaps he was being selfish by wanting you but he deserved happiness, right? And judging by the look in your eyes right now and the last year of teasing and lingering looks you also wanted him, so he wouldn’t let his inner demons ruin this.

Too weak to worry he might scare you off he caressed your knuckles with his thumb “stay, you can be my nurse” he lazily smiled as exhaustion takes him, not letting you argue back, typical Barnes. “Go get Dr. Cho please” you said to the bot. Worry etched on your face you moved a few hairs from his face, “don’t worry, I’ll make you feel better” you smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction #Carrot's harvest #Spotify

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

Text

Hold you to it (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles X Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Harry’s home for a mini break and you plan to take advantage of his time.

Warnings: SMUT. Oral (female reciving) Face sitting. Mentions of masturbation. Language. Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 2.2 k

Author’s Note: Hey! I’m back with another Harry piece! I’m still new to writing smut and I really hope you like it. Reblogs, feedback, comments and likes are more than welcome and encouraged ❤️ hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

Picture found on Pinterest

Anon: can you do a fic like perks(calum hood), but instead its with Harry and its his facial hair instead of thighs?

You were so thankful for Olivia Wilde.

That was the only thought running through your head as you rested your back against the kitchen counter, sipping on your coffee as you watched your boyfriend play with different strumming patterns on his guitar in the living room.

Harry has always been a morning person, you knew you’d die before you see the day where he slept in more than you on a weekend. His bright smile always lit up the room, just like the sun itself when it sets through the window curtains of your shared bedroom. And today was no different.

After weeks of filming away from home, Olivia sent everyone home for a mini holiday before resuming filming the last shots of Don’t Worry Darling. And you couldn't be more grateful for that.

Harry took that opportunity to the max, planning to stay home for as long as it was physically possible. He felt incredibly guilty for leaving you alone all of these past months, even if you reassured him that you understood why he had to do it and that he had your complete support. But he was dead set on making it up to you, and so he did.

The first day came and went as you spent it tangled in the sheets, only getting out of bed when you really needed to, but never going too far to miss each other's warmth, catching up to all the things you missed, all the kisses you couldn't give and all the moments just being by his side.

The second day was not much different and neither was the third or fourth. All of your moments were spent together and you wouldn't have it any other way. You would never admit it to yourself, but you were secretly glad that Harry was as clingy as you.

It was almost like a drug, the love you had for each other. It was too much but at the same time it never seemed like enough. You would give the world to each other if it were possible, but you knew that your world was made as long as you were together.

You were addicted to him in every possible way. You knew his secrets and he knew yours. He knew just where to touch you, to kiss you, to love you, and you knew just how to make him feel like the king of the world as long as you were his queen. He showered you in delicate details that knew would make you happy, going from something simple as to make you coffee in the morning, to giving you the most expensive lingerie for you to show it off only to him. For him, you were his rock, his anchor to earth when the world became too much, sometimes even feeling like you were the only real thing he had and he would be an idiot not to appreciate you, to love you like you deserve.

Yet, sometimes you wonder if you could love him better, if you could ever be enough to deserve his kind of love. You knew if he could hear your thoughts right now, he would make all of those insecure thoughts go away with just a simple kiss. It was so easy to love him, so much so that you believe you’d never really love till him.

And, as you watch his fingers move against the strings, you know you will never love someone as much as him.

You held your mug closer to your chest, smiling as you recognized the melody he was playing. He knew your favorite songs by heart and he proudly sang them to you whenever you were around. This simple detail let you know that he was aware of your presence, even when his back was facing you. So you didn’t waste anymore time as you went up to him and sat beside him on the sofa.

“How’d you know that I was awake?” You asked, resting your head in the palm of your hand as you laid your elbow on the couch.

Harry just smiled without looking at you and without stopping his strumming “I always know it’s you” He said, his voice husky as it was still early “Hard to ignore your stare, my love”

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide the red that stained your cheeks at the sound of the pet name. Even after all this time you still get butterflies when he called you sweet names.

You concentrated all your attention on watching him as he played his guitar with such skill. You smiled as you watched how his curls started growing again, he had to cut his hair on a retro style for the movie and he always had to keep it neat and proper, but today it was just flying around everywhere with no direction, some of them even falling on his forehead on a perfect little curl that just made him seem angelical. You watched as his hands moved along the strings, his long fingers pressing the right chords as his strumming never stopped. You always loved his hands, his delicate touch igniting fires in you everytime he wandered your body like it was a finest piece of art and he was the sculptor.

Soon, your thoughts went deeper as you remembered the way those same fingers left their mark at the sides of your body, holding you tighter and closer to him as he fucked you roughly through the night. Touching every part of you that needed to be touched as he made you reach your climax over and over again.

You were so deep into your own mind as memories of the night before came flooding in, making you close your legs a little harder in order to feel some kind of friction that could ease your ache, that you didn’t notice that the song had stopped and that those beautiful green eyes you love so much were staring at you now.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked with a smirk, almost like he could read your dirty thoughts with just a look into your eyes.

You placed your mug on the coffee table, scooting closer to him at the same time he put his guitar to the side and rested his arm over your shoulders. You laid your head into his shoulders, lifting your gaze to meet his “Kiss me”

Harry needn’t to be told twice cause in the second you finished your sentence his hand was already flying to your cheek to pull you closer to him and capturing his lips with yours.

You were completely intoxicated on his lips, on the way they moved in sync with yours and the way that his tongue took control almost immediately, allowing him to deepen the kiss till you saw nothing but stars behind your eyes. Soon, his other hand moved to your back, pulling you on top of him so you were straddling his hardening cock.

“Feel what you’re doing to me, baby” He said with a groan after you started grinding his growing over his sweatpants.

“Harry..” You moaned as his lips moved from your mouth, to your jaw and to your neck, tracing the marks he already left and leaving new ones for you to see later. You loved the way he claimed you with every kiss, every bite. But you especially loved the way his scruffy beard was burning your skin with every move he made, making you crave that sensation over your whole body and more “I missed this”

Harry chuckled lightly, his hands going from your ass cheeks to under his shirt that you were wearing, grabbing your sides and making you grind ever harder against him, spreading your arousal all over him “If I remember correctly, we were in the same position a few hours ago, love”

“No,” You whined “I missed this” You grabbed his face softly, your fingers running over his cheeks and his scruffy beard and mustache “I’m so glad you are not filming anymore”

Whenever he had to be on set, Harry had to maintain his face clean as a baby in order to stay in character. You had complained a lot about it since you always love his facial hair, that month where he left his moustache growing was still one of your highlights of the year. And Harry was well aware of how much you like it, so for this break he let it grow all over again, knowing how much fun you’ll have with it.

He smirked like the devil before pressing his lips to your ear and whispering “If you missed it so much then why don’t you ride it?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as he said those words, feeling your arousal grow with every moment passed “Harry..”

“Be a good girl for me, Y/N” He said, lifting your shirt and throwing it somewhere around the room. His hands immediately flew to your chest, massaging your nipples “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t ya darling?”

“Y-yes!” Was all you managed to say before Harry laid on the couch and pulled you on top of him. He waited for you to take off your drenched panties as he positioned himself on his back.

You put your hands at the sides of his face, lowering your head for one last kiss as Harry’s hand slapped your ass in order to get you to stop.

“I need to taste that little pretty pussy of yours” He said before pecking a kiss to your lips and giving you another slap on your ass.

Your legs were shaking with anticipation as you placed your center over Harry’s mouth, almost cumming right there and there when you heard him moan at the sight of your naked pussy.

“You are soaked, my love” He said, kissing the inside of your thighs “All of this for me?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, but right now you didn’t give a damn “For you, Harry” You moaned, feeling his breath over your center “All for you, always”

“Hmm, good” Harry said before grabbing you by the sides of your hip and pulling you into him by surprise.

You let out a loud moan when his tongue lapped at your entrance, licking every single spot before moving to your aching clit. He started kissing your bundle of nerves, biting it lightly before he started sucking you clean.

“Oh my god” You said, hand flying to Harry’s head and tugging hard on his curls as he moved his face between your thighs, creating that burning sensation with his beard that you know you’d feel for days to come.

Harry started licking you up and down, holding on to your hips and moving them as he deemed fit, stopping at your clit every few movements to tease you as much as he could. He could die happy between your legs, savoring every part of you like you were his last meal on death row. He absolutely adored the way you tugged on his hair, making him moan as he felt you shiver above him with all your little dirty sounds going straight to his hard cock. It might be the little narcissist in him, but he relished in the fact that he was the only one who could make you come undone using only his mouth.

He knew you were close without even having to look at you. Your moans became louder and louder and your tug on his hair was almost painful. He loved that.

“You’re close, baby?” He asked in between your legs.

“S-so close, Harry. Baby. So close” You whimpered.

Suddenly, Harry’s movements stopped as his hands let go of your hips. Making you let out a desperate cry.

“Earn it”

That was all he had to say before you started grinding yourself onto his mouth. Your hips moved at a fast pace as you were selfishly chasing your orgasm.

Harry felt like he was in heaven as he felt you fuck yourself with his mouth, letting him taste every part of you as he gladly ate you out. Moaning inside of you with every hard tug you have to his hair.

You were drunk on him, completely intoxicated as you moved yourself against his mouth, not caring about the sounds that were coming out of your mouth or the way that you could hear how Harry was touching himself as he pleasured you. All of that only adding to your imminent orgasm.

“Harry- B-baby I’m cumming” You pant, moving faster and faster as you could feel the burn inside your thighs “Oh-I’m cumming!” You practically screamed as you felt yourself let go on top of him.

You felt Harry’s hand come and hold you in place by your sides, his tongue fucking you through your climax and licking every single drop of cum you had to offer.

A few moments later, you found yourself on top of Harry, tasting yourself in his tongue as he kissed you deeply “You okay?” He asked once he pulled away and saw your pleasure filled eyes.

“You love me too much” You said, smiling as he turned you over so he could be on top.

Harry chuckled as he lowered his head to kiss you again, this time a little rougher than before “I promise I can show you just how much more I can love you”

You moaned as you felt him grind his cock over your sensitive pussy, coating it with your juices as he was almost ready to push it inside of you.

“I’ll hold you to it”

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @multistann @tenaciousperfectionunknown @talksoprettyjjx @mystic-232

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futures-tense · 3 years

Note

Would you be interested in writing a fic where Gwen has has the baby (and it’s Owen’s). The 126 are in the waiting room and tk overhears them joke about not letting this one near drugs or something and he runs out crying to Carlos and the 126 go to give Gwen and Owen a piece of their mind? Sorry it’s so long/specific x

This took me a long time, and im sorry, but I hope this is what you had in mind 🙃

also- unrelated- but this is how I found out that my sister and best friend learned to play poker while i was in the surgery once so fhfbf

TW: Substance addiction mention,

Since I Wasn’t Born Perfect//1.3k//

"Dad, drive faster!"

“Tk, I'm already speeding."

TK pursed his lips and trained his eyes on his mother again. "Breathe, mom."

"Owen, if you don't drive faster," she manages from the passenger seat. She's holding TK's hand tightly over her shoulder. "I swear to god, I'll-"

She lets out a cry and tightens her hold on TK, who winces slightly. He feels his phone buzzing next to him and he smiles at the name flashing across the screen.

"Hey, babe- ow!" He pulls his hand out of Gwyn's grip and switches his phone to his now throbbing hand.

"Is everything okay?" He can hear the concern in Carlos's voice.

"Yeah, sort of. I can't talk long though."

"TK."

He smiles slightly. "Mom went into labor; we're on our way to the ER."

"Oh," Carlos says. "Do you need-"

"No, finish your shift," TK insists as they pull up to the hospital. "I've got to go. Be safe, I love you."

"I love you too, cariño. Text me updates."

TK shoves his phone into his pocket and helps his mom out of the car. He slips into paramedic mode, spouting all the things that the doctor needs to know. Owen follows her but a nurse steps in front of TK apologetically.

"I'm so sorry, but I need you to wait in the waiting room."

He opens his mouth to argue but nods instead. She leads him to a room full of chairs and panicked families where he sits by himself, leg bouncing wildly. What feels like an eternity later, the rest of the 126 shows up.

"How's she doin'?" Judd asks, sitting next to him. TK just shrugs and tugs at the strings of his hoodie.

"They haven't told me anything yet." He frowns for a moment. "Did Dad call you guys?"

Paul shakes his head. "Carlos."

TK smiles. Mateo and Marjan sit on his other side and Mateo pulls out a deck of cards.

"Slap Jack?"

———

"I'm looking for TK Strand?"

After 13 excruciatingly slow hours, the words are music to his ears.

"That-that's me," he says, scrambling to his feet. "Is she okay? Is the baby? Did something go wrong? Is-"

"TK, let her speak," Judd laughs. The doctor smiles a little.

"Everything went fine; they're both okay." TK lets out a breath. "Do you want to go see them?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright, follow me."

When they get to the room, the doctor leaves TK standing in the doorway. His parents are watching the baby, oblivious to his presence. He smiles a little to himself, taking in the scene.

"Maybe this time we should keep the painkillers on the top shelf?" He hears his father say and TK feels like he was just punched in the gut.

"We can just wrap him in bubble wrap so he'll never need them."

He has never wanted to cry more.

———

Carlos looks around the waiting room, smiling as his eyes land on the members of the 126.

“Hey, any news?”

Marjan looks up from the card game she’s playing with Mateo. “They’re okay; TK just went back.”

He lets out a breath, “Thank god.” Someone bumps his shoulder from behind, rushing past him. “Sorry, I- TK?”

His fiancé turns to look at him and Carlos can see he’s on the verge of tears, relief and pain mixing in his eyes.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” TK ignores his question and instead hugs him tightly, burying his face in Carlos’s shoulder. Carlos looks around at the crew- hoping for answers- but they’re all just as confused as he is. “Okay, cariño, you have to talk to me. How can I help?”

“They’re making jokes,” TK mumbles. Carlos frowns and moves back, cupping TK’s face in his hands. The paramedic wipes his face with his sleeves, looking anywhere but at Carlos.

“What do you mean ‘they're making jokes?” Carlos prods.

“My- My parents,” he hiccups out. “They're making jokes about-about painkillers a-and-and bubble wrap- and about not fucking this kid up.”

Carlos can feel his blood boiling as TK breaks down in his arms. He pulls him close, shooting a look at Judd- who looks like he’s about to hit someone.

“Take a breath, Ty,” Carlos says, softly, pressing a kiss to his head.

Judd stands and starts in the direction TK just came from.

“Shit,” Paul mumbles as the rest of the crew get to their feet to follow. Carlos cards his fingers through TK’s hair.

“Hey, babe?” TK makes a noise, then sniffles, but doesn’t move. “I’m really proud of you.”

———

"Cap, you got a minute?"

Judd is leaning against the door to their room, arms crossed. Owen looks up from the sleeping baby in his wife's arms.

"Hey, you guys. Where's-"

"We need to talk."

Owen frowns and looks at the Gwyn and the baby before meeting them in the hall. "Where's TK?"

Marjan waves her hand dismissively. "You're making jokes about painkillers? What are you thinking?"

Owen stiffens. "How much did he hear?"

"No, Cap," Judd says, shaking his head. "That is not the point. You've got a kid who was in and out of rehab most of his teen and adult life and you're makin' jokes?"

Owen scoffs. "I don't need to get reprimanded by my employees."

“All due respect,” Paul starts, “but right now, we’re TK's friends."

"And we're going to treat you like any other asshole," Marjan says.

“Did you just call me an asshole, Marwani?”

She just shrugs. “You thought I wouldn’t call you out?”

Owen looks over the group. “Fine, will you go find TK, tell him I want to talk to him?”

“Carlos took him home,” Mateo says, looking up from a text from Carlos. Owen sighs and shakes his head.

“Okay, I’ll call him. On another note, thank you guys for being here.”

“Of course, Cap,” Paul smiles. “We wouldn’t miss this.”

Judd shakes his head and starts walking toward the waiting room again.

———

“TK, your phone’s ringing,” Carlos says from his place at the counter.

“It’s just my dad,” he mumbles dismissively, his eyes never leaving his computer. “What do you think about orchids?” Carlos wipes his hands on a dishtowel and leans on the counter. “I think, you’re avoiding things. Again.”

“Mm, oh! What about hyacinths?” TK asks; the wide smile never reaches his eyes. “If we’re going to have a spring wedding, they’d be the perfect table… center decoration thingy.”

“You’re really not going to talk about this?” Carlos doesn’t know why he’s asking; he knows the answer. He’s been trying to get TK to talk to his parents all week. “Babe, your little brother is officially a week old and you have yet to meet him. All because you’re being stubborn?”

“No, wait,” Tk mutters, typing quickly. “What’s that one flower you like? It- like- represents your birth month or something?” “TK.” “Asters! Oh, babe, asters would be-“

“Tyler.” TK trails off mid sentence, his fingers hovering over the keys. “Carlos, I don’t know what you want me to say. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

Carlos moves around the table and slowly closes the computer, leaning against the table next to his fiancé- who keeps his eyes trained forward.

“I want you to be okay.”

TK tugs on sleeve and chews the inside of his cheek. “After what happened in New York...my dad was the one who pushed rehab, the-the therapy, who insisted I live with him, you know? And then...”

He makes a face- almost wincing- and sniffles. “Then, he’s making jokes about how I fucked up.”

Carlos covered his hands with his own. “Do you want me to arrest him?”

TK laughs and leans closer to press his head against Carlos. “Could you do that?”

“I can if I want to.”

“What would you charge him with?”

“I’m sure I can find something,” he shrugs running his fingers through TK’s hair. They lapse into silence. “What can I do?”

“You’re here,” TK mumbles, pressing a kiss to his wrist. “That’s all I need right now.”

———

Chapter 2

#tk strand #911 lone star #carlos reyes #tarlos #my fics #911 ls fics #judd ryder #mateo chavez #owen strand #owen strand (derogatory)#gwyn strand #marjan marwani #paul strickland #substance abuse tw #ask to tag

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feral-dumbass · 3 years

Text

Just Like Heaven

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Female Reader

Summary: Bucky teased you right before he left for the gym and now he gets to reap the benefits.

Includes: Oral (Male receiving), Manhandling, Unprotected sex, Dirty talk, Overstimulation

Words: 2,319

A/N: Did I truly write it if my fic doesn’t include at least a hint of overstimulation? The answer is no. Title credit to The Cure. Tagging my friends 😊 @babybluestan @gagmebucky @heresyoursnackdumbass

Masterlist

“Hey, baby.” You’re in the kitchen when Bucky comes back home from the gym. He plants a small kiss on your cheek, acting all sweet on you after he left you high and dry this morning. You both woke up to Bucky’s early ass alarm this morning. Some in a better mood than others. One of Bucky’s default moods when it comes to you is to be a tease. He relied heavy on that filthy fuckin’ mouth of his to tease you with dirty talk, his voice deep and gravelly due to just waking up. Just when his deft metal fingers slipped into the front of your panties to touch the wetness in between your thighs, he noticed the time. Bucky knew he wouldn’t hear the end of making them wait from Sam, let alone Steve. Bucky left the warm confines of your bed and was out your door quicker than you could say ‘forget the gym’. He took all the warmth when he left and just left you with sexual frustration. Nothing truly would suffice except Bucky’s touch, especially when you were so close to getting it. Too keyed up, you couldn’t go back to sleep and decided to be productive.

“Hey.” You glance at him from the corner of your eye and your brain momentarily stops functioning. You fully face him. Looking like some kind of greek Adonis, Bucky stands next to you in a sleeveless black t-shirt and basketball shorts. His hair’s up in a messy bun with a few brown tendrils falling out, framing his face. His metal arm gleams under the fluorescent light. Your eyes trail down his arm as you're forced to be reminded of how his metal hand was in your underwear just a few hours ago. Without thinking about it, you drop to your knees, right hand balling up the bottom hem of his damp basketball shorts. “Bucky, let me suck your cock.”

His face flashes with surprise before he smirks. His metal hand cups your cheek as the other uncurls your fist out of his shorts. “What a sight to be greeted with, but I’m sweaty.”

“I literally do not give a shit.” You reach for the waistband of his shorts as he groans, momentarily distracted by your eagerness, before he’s swatting your hand away.

“Wait, no. I don’t want that for you.” You jut out your lower lip and give your biggest puppy dogs eyes. You’re legitimately pouting that you can’t have your boyfriend’s massive cock down your throat. “You can’t barely even fit all of me in your mouth. I’m doing your jaw a favor.” He strokes your cheek lovingly.

“I am willing to try, Bucky. Please.”

“Jesus christ.” He squats down to your eye level, taking his hand off your cheek to the back of your neck. He pulls you in for a short filthy kiss, tongue sweeping into your mouth to caress yours for a second. He waits until you open your eyes again. This man is making a new record for leaving you momentarily stunned today. He needs to make sure you understand. “I’m going to take shower and then you can do whatever you want to me.” Bucky helps you up off the floor and you trail after him to your bedroom. “I’m not letting you take a shower with me.”

You fold your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. “Tease.”

“You fuckin’ love it.” Bucky looks over his shoulder, grins, and winks at you before he goes into the bathroom.

You wait on the bed like the good girl you are. You lift your eyes off your phone when you hear him come out. He stands in the doorway as steam escapes behind out of the bathroom behind him. His now wet hair is thrown into another messy bun and water droplets drip down the expanse of his muscles. Your mouth runs dry. Suddenly you’re thirsty. You toss your phone carelessly to the side and slide off the bed to your knees. A white towel loosely hangs around his hips. He’s not like Adonis, he is Adonis. Maybe you’re truly dating a God.

“Bucky.” If he doesn’t come to you, you will crawl to him. You’ll suck him dry right in the doorway. You don’t think he realizes this.

“Sweetheart, look at you. On your knees, begging for me. Love when you get like this. Why don’t you ask nicely and I’ll consider giving you my cock? It’s what good girls would do.” Your eyes follow as he walks over and sits on the bed. His legs spread wide, you situate yourself between them before you speak.

“Bucky, please, let me suck your dick. I’ll do anything. I’ve missed you. Please.” You reach for the knot of the towel resting on his hip and wait for confirmation. He doesn’t swat your hand away, but instead, nods.

You’re untying the cotton before Bucky can finish saying “Go ahead.” As both ends of the towel are thrown on either side of Bucky, his cock stands tall, hard and ready for your touch.

You rub your palms across his thighs. “Missed you so much, Baby. Not a second while you were gone did I stop thinking about your cock.” You leave kisses in his inner thighs. They get more sloppy the closer you get. The hard muscle of his thighs twitch as you bite a hickey into the inner part. Bucky’s eyes, heavy lidded, don’t leave you. You lick your palm before touching his dick. You pump him slowly as you kiss his lower stomach, muscles flexing under your lips.

“Bunny, you’re killing me. Stop the teasing.” His voice has gone down a few octaves. That’s when you know Bucky is truly horny. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sound.

“You fuckin’ love it.” He opens his mouth to retort, but you kiss the tip before taking him in your mouth. The only thing that comes out is a groan. You swirl your tongue around the head and suck.

“Jesus Christ.” You take his cock further into your mouth, your lips stretched around his girth. Bucky places one of his hands gently on your head as you start bobbing your head. “So good, bunny- fuck- Love your mouth.” A shiver runs through at the praise. You wanna test yourself. You want to see how far you can take Bucky’s cock down your throat. Breathing through your nose, you hollow your cheeks and slowly take down his length. It doesn’t take long to feel like you’re gagging. You’re tongue drags against him as you bob up for air. You catch your breath as Bucky checks on you. “You okay?” You nod. “You don’t have to deepthroat me, you know. We can save that for later. Just wanna feel your mouth on me honestly.” God, him caring just makes you want to deepthroat him more.

“I love you.” You go back to his cock and suck him in earnest. Your head bobs quickly as you pump the rest of him that can’t fit. His muscles flex as he lets out a pornograpghic moan. In just a few minutes, Bucky gives you a warning.

“Gonna cum.” You double down on your efforts and suck the absolute soul out of this man. He moans as he cums and it reverberates into your soul. You swallow all that he has to offer before he’s tugging you off his cock from overstimulation. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue to show that you swallowed. “Jesus Christ, get the fuck up here.”

Bucky lifts you up into his lap with ease. Your legs are spread wide as you straddle his hips. You can feel his hardening cock through your flimsy booty shorts as he pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you gently suck on it. Bucky leans back until his back hits the bed and you’re hovering over him. The movement has you sliding against him. Feeling that sweet friction, you continue to grind against him. Sadly, you need to stop kissing him to breathe.

“Bucky.” You whine as you bump your nose against his jaw. He knows exactly what your gonna say. He speaks before you can say anything else.

“I know, I know. Just give me a few minutes.” You’ve never been more thankful for the super soldier refractory period. You’re pretty sure Bucky can feel you soaking through your shorts. You leave open mouth kisses up and down his neck, leaving a few hickeys here and there. His groan vibrates underneath your lips. “Fucking hell.” His hands press down on your gyrating hips and your movement becomes limited. “Can you stop being a cock slut for just a few minutes? I’ll cum before I can even fuck you.”

“I can’t help it. Especially when it comes to you. Have you seen you? I will literally jump your bones anytime anywhere. Stop having such a nice cock and maybe I’ll stop being a cockslut.”

“Damnit.” Bucky flips you over so he’s on top and he starts heavily grinding down on you. Your fingers digging into his defined back as you feel him, fully erect, through your shorts. The friction turning your insides liquid.

“Wait, wait. Buck.” You being fully clothed is not lost on you. In fact, you want them off. Bucky takes the hint or really, has the same feelings as you. He hips weigh heavy against yours as he helps you pull off your (his) shirt. You can barely comprehend that he throws it in some corner of the room before his mouth is on your chest. One of his hands massages the breast that his mouth doesn’t occupy. He does that for a few minutes, alternating between breasts, until he can feel your hips twitch in want. He’s off you in a instant and you miss his warmth. Bucky hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them off. You’re underwear going with them. He moves you more to the center of the bed before joining you again. He hovers over you, hand sliding down your stomach until he reaches your pussy. Three of his fingers smear your wetness around before using it to lube up his cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ, could you be any wetter?” He kisses you heavily before you can beg him. Finally, what you’ve been waiting for all day, Bucky slides into you. At the addicting stretch of him, you moan into his mouth and dig your nails into the meaty flesh of his bicep. His first few thrusts are slow, enjoying the feel of you stretched around him. He tears himself out of your grip and gets on his knees. He lightly slaps your thigh before he’s grabbing your ankle and bringing it over his shoulder. He does the same with the other, not missing a beat in his thrusts.

“B-bucky.” You stutter out his name as he leans back on his haunches, your ass sitting ontop of his thighs. The position change setting your nerves on fire.

“I want you to cum on my cock. C’mon, sweetheart. I wanna feel it.” He speaks in a gruff voice before rutting into you like a mad man. Every roll of his hips has you drowning in bliss. Bucky wraps his metal arm around your calves to keep you pressed against him and the other goes to rub your clit in rapid little circles. Bucky’s got you in such a position that you can’t shy away from the pleasure. He forces you to feel all of it and it’s not long before you can feel the rise in your lower belly. Bucky can feel your muscles tense and he rubs your clit faster. You reach your orgasm as Bucky fucks you through it. The onslaught of overstimulation making your legs shake.

“God, have I mentioned how much I love when you cum?” Bucky gives you a little bit of reprieve as he flips you onto your stomach. “The tightest cunt on this planet.” Bucky hand smacks down onto your ass. It stings so hard you know it’s metal. He lifts your hips up again before he slides back in, hands on your hips keeping you pressed against him. You moan. His thrusts quick and hard as he makes your vision blurry. His metal hand leaves your hip to tap three fingers against your lips. Your pleasure riddled brain makes no second guesses. You take the three fingers into your mouth and suck on them like you did his cock. His fingers press down on your tongue like a makeshift gag just for you. Bucky’s other hand leaves your hip to circle your clit. Your hips buck to meet his thrusts as you fist the sheets, drool dripping down his hand and your chin.

Your second orgasm comes rather quicky with the rate you and Bucky are going. Your thighs shake as your back arches, coming on Bucky’s cock for the second time tonight. Bucky gets in three more good thrusts before he grinds his hips into your ass as he cums. His hand leaves your clit to lace through your fingers fisting the sheets. You can hear Bucky’s groans even through your ringing ears. Bucky hand leaves your mouth to fist the sheets as you both calm down.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky flips you both over one last time, so you’re resting against his chest.

He exhales through his nose. “I know. Lets stay like this a little longer.”

“Okay but like I have to take a shower now.”

His arms wrap around your waist. “I won’t let you leave. Twenty minutes tops.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“Fine then five.”

“Fifteen it is.” Bucky agrees. This Adonis god of a man knows that you’ll be passed out by the end of the fifteen minutes and he’ll get to cuddle you for longer.

#if this is bad you never read it #Happy late Monday!#Ive been so busy that I'll end up posting halloween au's during christmas #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky/ reader #bucky barnes/ reader #bucky barnes/ you #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #my writing #i have never heard of a posting schedule and it shows #is it truly a supersoldier shirtless scene if you dont relate them to a god?

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longlivefeedback · 3 years

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I spent three months working on my fic. The art is also amazing. And just 7 kudos. Shortly after, a fic appeared, that was literally a copy of MY fic and badly written, and just 1000 words, and this fic have more kudos now. I really want to cry

I’m sorry Anon. This may sound like impossible advice and is really just random words from a stranger on the internet that doesn’t know anything about you, but the best thing I would encourage you to do is to stop comparing your worth to others.

We live in a world of numbers where “value” is measured by views, likes, clicks, and any other metric companies can think up and put on a UI. In a world of Instagram influencers, Big Name Fans, and the Twitter-famous, we’re being told that bigger is better, more likes means more love, and the more interactions you have, the more important you are.

Do not do this with your writing. I get it. The AO3 stats are Right There. Front and center. Unignorable. Writing is lonely. It feels like screaming into the void, and after all that work, surely someone will give you the validation you deserve, right? After all, that other writer and their work got it. So why not me?

It’s not wrong to want that, Anon. It’s not wrong to love and share and want that love reciprocated. I would argue that it is very very human, and a very beautiful thing that you are reaching out, labouring over something you love, putting a bit (a lot) of yourself out there, hoping for some of that love back.

But as long as you’re always looking over your shoulder, always wondering why them and not you, why do they have more more more, why why why...you’re never going to be happy. And if this is the situation you find yourself in with your writing, I’m afraid that it will destroy your love of writing.

I’ve seen it happen. Writers turning bitter. They get angry. They get disappointed. They start asking questions. “Why can’t readers comment?” “Why don’t readers say anything?” “How do I get more kudos/comments/hits?” And sometimes they stop writing. They stop doing the thing they love. They stop creating. Why write and post when no one is going to appreciate it?

There’s really only one person whose answer matters: You.

When it comes down to it, You, the author, are the only person that should matter. How do you feel about your writing? Did you tell the story you wanted to tell? What did you learn?

No one is going to love your story more than you. No one knows your story better than you. No one knows the bits that made it in, and the bits that didn’t. No one really knows which parts you struggled with, which one caused you the most tears, which ones you’re the most proud of because it was so hard for you to write.

Every time I see a fic I’m in awe. Because it’s a labor of love. It’s something someone tried, something someone wanted to do, regardless of the writer’s skill, experience, or English proficiency. It’s something someone created, for fun or as a way to heal. It’s part of them and their own personal journey in this funny thing we call life. It’s something they decided to spend what precious time we all have in this world on and it’s what they’ll leave behind. It’s beautiful because it exists and You made it. And if you are the only one who sees and appreciates that. So be it. It’s your writing. It’s a bit of you. Will you really be happy if everyone else loves it except you?

So find your reason to write. Try not to let it be something that is dependent on things you cannot control and the numbers attached to it. Aren’t you a little tired of being constantly measured, compared, and criticized because what you did isn’t big enough or loved enough or good enough? Why can’t the pure act of writing just be enough?

If you’re still reading this and are thinking to yourself, “easier said than done” or “it’s all very well for me to say these things, but what can you actually do about this” then maybe here are some things you can try to distance yourself from the addicting pull of the numbers popularity game:

1. Take a step back - Try to be self-aware and realize what your expectations and goals are when you post a fic. I would refrain from an outcome that you cannot control. Number of hits/kudos/comments are things you cannot control. Who reads your fic and what they say are largely things you cannot control. What other writers post and what their readers say are things you cannot control. Realize that there’s always going to be a “bigger” and “better” fic by the numbers. There’s always a bigger fish. Don’t fall into the trap of measuring the worth of a fic, and by extension yourself, by numbers that you cannot control.

2. Find a friend - Someone whose feedback you cherish and who can laugh and cry with you and give you that feel good feeling we get when we share things, the communal creatures that we are. Share your love with them and have fun!

3. Participate in an exchange - Much easier to feel happy about a response to a fic when it’s specifically made and targeted to one single person. As long as that person likes it, mission accomplished! Also, exchanges usually have a community (fellow participants, mods, betas) for the event who can give you feedback as well. It’s a pretty good way to make some new fandom friends too!

4. Get feedback from the right people - If you are looking for feedback to improve on your writing, try to find someone whose opinion you respect and who you can build a relationship with. Constructive criticism is often very personal and takes a lot of trust between the giver and the recipient. It will take some time to build enough trust with a beta/friend/reader, so be patient with them, yourself, and the process. If you are able to build enough trust with someone you want feedback from, I find it helpful to be specific when you ask for feedback: “The pacing feels off here. What do you think?” “Can you help me show XYZ? I want it to feel like ABC.” “Does A seem to be too childish here?” “Is B acting out of character?” “Is there too much description on this page and did you lose interest?” Take their feedback at face value and try to keep an open mind. Communication is key to any relationship and it is no different with something like this.

5. Write, but do not post - Write your fic. Create. Put it down in words. But if you can’t stop yourself from constantly comparing yourself to others, don’t put yourself in that position. Just don’t post your fic. Let it sit in google docs, Word, or whatever word processor you used to bring your thought to life. Don’t gamble your happiness on things you can’t control. Find another reason to write.

Be honest with yourself about why you write. Try to stop comparing yourself and your fic to others. Don’t let something that should bring you joy be a source of sorrow.

#llf asks #long post #well this turned out long #hope this helps even a little bit anon

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 2 years

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3, 4 & 12!

3: favorite line/scene you wrote this year

Halfway through the sandwich, Jon says, “They smell like home. That’s why I smoke them.”

Martin blinks at him. “What?”

“The cigarettes.” Jon rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “They smell like home. That’s why I started smoking them. Didn’t even like them at first, but. Addiction’s a funny thing.”

This entire scene in chapter 9 of Nhthcth where Martin is trying to get Jon to eat in the break room, though mostly this bit, has probably been my favorite scene this year. It has this awful sense of tragedy to it? We can tell something awful has happened even we don't know the details of what yet. But it's also undercut with this odd, unconditional kindness of Martin giving Jon his lunch, of noticing that something's wrong even if no one else does.

I like the cigarette line especially because that's the sort of admission that Jon would never otherwise make. He's not the sort of person who gets to keep good things, so he tends to not admit things to be good while he has them. He's used to being either hurt or dismissed out of hand, and he doesn't expect anyone to care about the why of what he does. He's used to his desires and personhood being at best decoration and at worst a thing to be weeded out. So for Jon to actually take the time to say "this, this is why i'm doing this, i've lost something and i miss it terribly and that's a horribly inconvenient thing for everyone around me, i don't trust anyone with myself but here, you can have this important bit" is just. such a painful thing. This is probably the point in Jon's life that he's struggling the hardest and this small act of kindness on Martin's part was one of the best things to happen to him in a long time.

A close second is when i kill off the queen of england and replace her with a possessed wax figure in gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, purely because like, a day after i published it the news was circulating about how the queen of england was being admitted to the hospital and was disappearing from the public eye and had like, weird purple hands and there was a acid trip of a moment where the thought entered my mind that my fanfiction was fucking death note

4: total number of words you wrote this year

i've published 197,853 words on ao3 this year. no idea how many i actually wrote--i have some original works that i've been developing for a while now, and i have no idea how many words are scattered across those docs, and i start way more fanfiction than ever actually makes it to the posting point. a lot of works end up left in my drafts because they're too long to commit to right now or because while it was fun to start, I didn't like it enough to spend the time making it a whole project. i probably only publish like, a third or so of what I actually write?

12: favorite character to write about this year

i just started this wip (the first step of kintsugi) but i love peter parker. I love him with my whole heart and he's so fun to write. especially up against someone like frank castle, where they really can clash in a way that beautifully showcases their characters. they're both such strong willed people and have such opposite stances on so many things, it just is perfect to explore their individual character types.

like, i'm super bitter about how the mcu used his character (a lot of it centered around the utter exclusion of uncle ben and the fact that the writers seem to think that the most famous comic book hero of all time can't stand on the merits of his own storylines and instead keep chaining him to tony stark or dr strange) but he was my favorite character growing up and he remains one of my favorite characters to write.

i don't know if this counts, because I've written a decent chunk of this fic but i haven't committed to publishing it yet, but i have this fic i fondly refer to as the bucky barnes designated driver au, wherein matt murdock makes so many wrong decisions they round out to be the right decisions and invites a recovering bucky barnes to live with him, and bucky barnes ends up acting as the only responsible adult to the entire new york vigilante population. The version of peter parker in that fic is my favorite, he is so chaotic and such a little shit.

he takes the most ridiculous, extreme actions in response to all of his life problems. he will do fucking anything if someone fucks with his loved ones, and if questioned, his only explanation is "i am a ride or die." he has an espionage phase. he is gaslighting the entire new york police department. he hires himself as the nelson, murdock & page intern by telling foggy that karen hired him and telling karen that matt hired him and letting matt assume that one of the other two hired him. his problem solving is at 100% and his communication is at 0%. if you ask him what he is doing at any given moment he will throw himself out a window. he hustles frank castle, as peter parker, into buying him free food, with frank castle having no idea this boy is spiderman. in a storyline that i lamentably had to discard, he frames captain america for attempted kidnapping and his only defense when he gets caught is "i almost gaslighted my way out of that like a girlboss."

peter parker is a boy who, at age 14, got bit by a weird ass spider and was so dedicated to the aesthetic that he spends the rest of his life flinging himself through the city on webs of his own design at 120mph using web shooters he created from half a toaster and parts he bought from a radio shack for $37. and it fucking works. he is so chaotic and i love him so, so much.

#tma #nhthcth #peter parker #the first step of kintsugi #jon sims #martin blackwood #ask game

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songtoyou · 3 years

Text

Epiphany - Part Four

Paring: Luke Crain x Female Reader

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3,080

Warnings: Talks of drug use and recovery. Swearing and self-doubt.

Description: Life has never been easy for Luke Crain. After the death of Nell, Luke realizes that he needs to make some changes. He decided to stay in Massachusetts and attend rehab. He was determined to remain on his path of sobriety. When you get assigned to be Luke’s sponsor, it opens a new door of possibilities that neither you nor Luke expected.

A/N: I am sorry that it has taken me so long to write and upload this chapter. I have not been feeling so good since I posted that last chapter. Lots of anxiety keeping me from doing things such as write. Anyway, here is the new chapter. I wanted to write about Aunt Janet. I felt that the show didn’t really tell us much about her except that she took care of the kids after the events of Hill House in 1992.

Note: Italics represent the past or past conversations.

Feedback is wonderful. It is nice knowing if people are actually liking this fic.

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @morningstar09

~Aunt Janet’s House – 2002 ~

“Luke! Hurry up, or you’re going to be late for school!” Aunt Janet yelled up the stairs.

“Luke! Come on!” exclaimed Nellie. “I’ll go check on him.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” said Janet. Her youngest nephew often worried her, especially since it was the tenth anniversary of Olivia’s death this past summer. Janet started to notice that Luke became more recluse and stayed up in his room. The only person Luke would interact with was Nell, which was not surprising to Janet. The twins only managed to become closer as they got older.

What really began to cause Janet to worry was catching Luke steal money from her purse. She asked him what he was doing and why he was stealing. However, Luke could come up with a pretty decent lie about needing money to buy flowers for Olivia’s grave.

In truth, it was to buy beer. Luke had taken a liking to the barley and hops beverage. It helped him feel numb and not worry about anything. Unfortunately, Luke had one too many beers last night and was paying for it. Nellie found him headfirst in the toilet regurgitating the contents of his late-night beer binge.

“Eww, gross. What is wrong with you?” asked Nellie. She pinched her nose as the stench of Luke’s puke was overwhelming.

“What does it look like! I’m sick! Tell Aunt Janet that I can’t go to school.”

“Luke, come on. You have missed too many days already. They’re going to hold you back another year if you miss any more school,” Nellie argued while searching through Luke’s drawers and closet for clothes.

Luke managed to get up from the bathroom floor when he felt it was safe. He rinsed out his mouth to relieve it from the after taste of throw-up.

“Come on! Get cleaned up and put these on,” ordered Nell and shoved Luke’s clothes in his arms.

Luke groaned and plopped down on his bed. “Nellie…I can’t go to school today. I’m too sick.”

“Well, your sickness is also making me sick, but I managed to get up and ready for school today. Now move it! I’ll keep bugging you if you don’t move. I’m not going to let you fall to the waste side. Do you hear me, Luke?”

“Fine! I’m getting dressed!” Luke yelled to get Nellie off of his back.

No matter what occurred between them, neither twin could ever hate the other. They were each other’s best friends and closest confidante. They had to be. Especially now that they were the last two left in Aunt Janet’s care. As soon as their eldest siblings turned eighteen, they hightailed it out of Janet’s house for college.

Luke slowly trudges down the stairs with his backpack slumped on his shoulders.

“Hey, there he is,” greeted Aunt Janet. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetie?”

“No! No breakfast,” Luke replied with his head on the table.

However, Nellie pushed a plate of dry toast in front of him and told him to at least nibble some bites. “Here’s some orange juice. Take slow sips. The last thing we need is you spewing junks in the toilet again,” whispered Nellie while Aunt Janet was in the kitchen. She would not out that her brother was hungover. That last thing Nell wanted was to cause any more trouble for Luke.

She knew why Luke did not want to go to school, and it had to do with, what else, their family. Some of the kids at school saw Luke as an easy target to bully and terrorize. The topic of their “messed-up” family was their go-to whenever they wanted to antagonize Luke. Nell often found herself a target for bullies but could stand up for herself a lot better than Luke.

With the anniversary of Olivia’s death, the bullies made it their mission to torment Luke about growing up without a mother or father. They would push him against the lockers, knocking his glasses off his face, and trip him in the hallways. It was too much to handle, and Luke was tired.

Leaning back in his chair, Luke re-read the words on the computer screen. His instructor loved the essay he turned in and advised him to expand upon it. Luke pushed aside his reservations about exploring his past traumas through writing. It was a better outlet for Luke to help cope and tackle past stressful life experiences. Not only did Luke have support from his instructor and you, but his counselor at Banyan Treatment Center, Rob, also supported the idea of using expressive writing as a way to heal.

Luke could not deny that writing helped clear his head. Something he learned while being in rehab back in Los Angeles. It allowed him to face things from his past that he had pushed aside. However, Luke had some reservations about how much he should…open himself up when it comes to sorting out his past events. There were still things that Luke was not quite ready to face.

Oh my God!" exclaimed Luke. "It has been a month and a half since we have seen that movie. It would be best if you got over the ending. It happened. There is nothing you can do about it."

"I can't, Luke. It was total bullshit!" you yelled back furiously.

Luke calmly said your name to get your attention. "Listen to me; we don't even know if Steve Rogers actually stayed back in time to be with Peggy. He may have…"

"Then where did he go? Huh? He just up and left his friends who he just got back. Steve and Peggy never even dated! They kissed, that is it. Yes, there was an attraction that each had for one another, but that was all it ever way…an attraction. They are a 'what could have been' type of couple—the movie completely throughout all of Steve's character development…right out the window. Whatever, I'm over it," you stated, throwing your hands up in defeat.

You and Luke were driving to his Aunt Janet's house for a visit. He mentioned to you about wanting to visit his aunt for some time but had not gotten around to it. You were surprised that he asked you to come along.

Luke mentioned that Shirley and Theo were too busy to come with him and did not want to go alone. You agreed on the condition that he drive since Aunt Janet lived an hour and a half away from Wilmington. Lately, your anxiety has been going up and down, so you were not comfortable being at the hands of the wheel, especially on the freeway. You did not understand why you had such anxiety these past few days. You chalked it up to being nervous about your final project at school. The assignment was to create a self-portrait. It should be simple enough, but of course, the art instructor wanted students to "think outside of the box" and not have it be a regular standard portrait of themselves.

Each draft you came up with was of you in some state of turmoil, whether it be you depicted on a gurney getting resuscitated from your heroin overdose or lying in a pool of your own vomit. You could not understand why this particular project was giving you such a hard time. You were three-years sober. You had a steady job and gone back to school. Your relationship with your parents was better than ever. So, why the thought of a self-portrait brought upon negative thoughts about oneself?

You mentioned your troubles to Luke, and he was very sympathetic. While he was now 206 days sober, there were times where he felt…like the achievement did not mean much.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked him while on the way to Aunt Janet's house.

"It's just…this isn't my first rodeo when it comes to recovery," Luke began to say. "There is always this little voice in the back of my head that…"

"That it is only temporary. I have that little voice too. I'm not too fond of that little voice. Three years sober, and there are times where I still feel like a total failure. I shouldn't, but…I can't help it," you revealed to Luke honestly.

"Thankfully, there is another little voice in the back of my head that gives tells me that I'm doing a good job now and then. It's just that positive little voice has been a tad quiet lately," you added.

Luke could pick up on the little defeatist tone in your voice, and he did not like it. You immediately felt his worry about you. "Hey," you said to get his attention and placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about me, okay. I'm fine. I have my fears like every recovering addict. It is nice to talk to someone about it, particularly someone who understands, you know. That helps."

Silence soon filled the car, but it was not awkward. You never had awkward or uncomfortable silences with Luke. For some reason, Luke was one of the few comforting presences in your life. Regardless of all of the hardships he has gone through in his life, he offered a sense of hopefulness. With his 6'3 stature, Luke really came off more like a gentle giant. It was like he did not view himself as this grown tall man, but probably still felt like that little kid hiding under the bed from the "Tall Man" at Hill House.

"Luke," you said to get his attention. "Are you happy?"

"No," he replied immediately, then clarified when he saw the look you gave him. "I mean, am I happy that I am over 200 days clean, then yes I am, very much so. But…I don't know, there is a small part of me that is scared to be happy…to be content in fear of something going wrong."

When Luke pulled the car into Aunt Janet's driveway, the older woman immediately came out of the house to greet her youngest nephew.

"There he is, my little boy," she said and wrapped her arms around Luke, which he reciprocated.

"Hi Aunt Janet, how are you?"

"I'm fine, darling. How have you been?" Aunt Janet asked, pulling away to get a good look at Luke. He looked much better than he did at Nell's funeral.

"Good. I'm doing good. Everyone is doing…fine," Luke replied, then turned towards you. He introduced you as his friend and not his sponsor to his Aunt, which kind of surprised you.

"So nice to meet you," said Aunt Janet taking your hand. She motioned for you both to follow her into the house. "I hope you both are hungry. I made an array of sandwiches and salads for lunch. Luke, I also made your favorite…chocolate pecan pie bars."

"Thank the Lord because he was hoping you would make them on the car ride here. It was all he talked about?" you teased.

"Once you have one, then you will know what I am talking about," Luke responded with a smile.

Aunt Janet lead you both into the kitchen.

"Can I use the bathroom to freshen up?" you asked her.

"Oh yes, dear. It is down that hallway, the first door to the right," told Aunt Janet as she showed you where to go. "Luke, you should probably wash your hands first," she added.

"Yes, Aunt Janet," he said and went to the sink to wash his hands.

When you were no longer in earshot, Aunt Janet stood beside her nephew and said, "Your friend seems really sweet."

Luke could not hold back his smile, "Yeah, she is genuinely nice. She's fun to hang out with. We have a lot of the same interests. Shirley and Theo have met her as well," he mentioned and shared that both of his sisters really liked you.

Aunt Janet turned her head to see if you came if you were around the corner. When you were not, she leaned over to Luke and said, "Very pretty too. She'd make a lovely…"

"Aunt Janet, she is just a friend. I can't date her anyway. She's…they say you shouldn't date anyone while still in recovery."

"I'm so proud of you," Aunt Janet said as she placed the food on the kitchen table. "You are becoming the man I always knew you could be."

Luke would be lying to himself if he denied that there was some form of attraction that he had for you, both physically and emotionally. He knew that the feelings that he was slowly developing towards you could be considered wrong. You were his sponsor…a dedicated one at that too. It would not be right for him to act on any attraction he may have for you—no doubt, that you would not reciprocate them, which would be disappointing to Luke.

"Better to just suffer in silence," Luke thought to himself.

"Don't you want a girlfriend? A family of your own someday?" asked Aunt Janet.

"Yeah…maybe. Someday. I'm just learning to take care of myself without drugs in my system. There is no way I can be a dedicated father or husband to anyone… at least not right now. I am still a work in progress," Luke admitted to his aunt. "I do like…" But Luke stopped when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Oh, my goodness. The pictures on the wall… I'm assuming the little kid with glasses is you, Luke."

The three of you sat around the kitchen table with your plates stacked with delicious food.

"Luke was the absolute cutest kid. He had a little lisp as well," Aunt Janet shared. "I have more pictures of the kids if you would like to see them?"

"Yes," you replied ecstatically.

"No," Luke disputed, "We are in the middle of eating."

"We can multitask. Let's see those pictures," you asserted gleefully while Aunt Janet got up from the table.

With a belly full of food, the three you were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking tea, and eating Aunt Janet's yummy chocolate pecan pie bars. You already looked through three photo albums that showed Luke and his siblings' younger years.

"I wanted to take as many pictures as I could of the kids. They hated it, but I told 'em they would appreciate it when they got older," expressed Aunt Janet. "Here's a picture of Nell on her wedding day. That's her husband, Arthur. Sadly, he passed away a couple of months after they got married. But…they are together now."

You looked at the photo of the young couple. Nell looked very much like her older sisters and her mother. You could tell that there was a kindness about Nell just by looking at the picture. She was the type of person to go above and beyond for her family and even strangers. Luke would say that Nell was just that type of person to care about everyone, no matter who they were or where they came from.

Luke did share with you that one of his biggest regrets was not going to Nell's wedding. He said that he tried, but Shirley told him to leave. Luke said that it was for the best and that he was in no right state of mind to support his twin the way she deserved on her wedding day.

Thankfully for Luke, Nell understood and held no hard feelings. She never did when it came to her other half.

Aunt Janet began to sniffle, and when you looked up from the photo, you saw the older woman dab her eyes with a napkin. Out of instinct, Luke grabbed his Aunt's tiny hand and squeezed it with his as a way to show support. Just as he was Aunt Janet's little boy, Nell was her little girl. She was the one to raise them, take care of them, and guide them into adulthood.

None of the Crain children were perfect; they were far beyond that notion. However, there is no denying that if they did not have Aunt Janet take care of them and love them, they could have been worse off. Luke had the overwhelming feeling of guilt encompassing him at the moment as Aunt Janet tried to hold back her tears.

You instantly looked up at Luke. You could feel his sense of guilt towards the way he treated his aunt while growing up. He looked over at you. It was a silent conversation you both were having between one another. You mouthed, "Do you want me to go?" so he could have this moment alone.

With a shake of his head, 'No,' Luke spoke up to get his aunt's attention. "Aunt Janet…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…for all the Hell I put you through while living here. You did so much for Nell and me, and the others that I…shit all over it. I stole and lied to you like it was my job. You deserved better. I just want you to know that…me getting hooked on drugs…well…that was…no matter what had happened…it was my choice to go down that path of destruction. I love you, Aunt Janet, and I am so appreciative of the sacrifices you made for my siblings and me. I wish that I weren't such a fuck up…"

"Oh sweetheart, no, you are not a…fuck up," Aunt Janet interjected and continued, "Not at all. I love you so much that…I would do anything for you, you know that, right? Your childhood is in the past. It happened. It is a part of you. The fact that you are continuing to remain clean after all that has occurred…well, that is something you should be most proud of. It shows that you are dedicated to your sobriety and turning your life around. No one said this process was easy, but you stayed the course and continued to make good decisions. As I told you earlier, you are becoming the man I always knew you could be."

"Now, I'm going to cry," Luke giggled as he dabbed his eyes with a napkin. "I didn't mean to turn this into a sob fest, but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry for what I put you through and that I love you very much, Aunt Janet."

Aunt Janet emerged from her seat to wrap her arms around her nephew and kiss the top of his head. It was a sweet moment to witness.

#luke crain #luke crain x reader #luke crain x female reader #the haunting of hill house #oliver jackson cohen

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