#A NEW STYLE OF CITY DRIVING

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design Automotive A NEW STYLE OF CITY DRIVING Renault Twizy ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 026 - May 21, 2023

[lovebugcody]

graaaaaaaaaaace i know you’re busy and i’m glad you’re busy but please reply to my emaillllllllllllll i want to book my leave for my star wars tattoooooooooooooos

[espinosaurusrexex]

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck. 

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.  

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things. 

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home. 

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.  

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did. 

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away. 

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you. 

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. 

Holy Shit. 

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer. 

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare. 

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you. 

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it. 

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner. 

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve. 

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement. 

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again. 

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen. 

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.” 

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar. 

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid. 

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table. 

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City. 

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted. 

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat. 

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.” 

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.” 

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible. 

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends. 

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction. 

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them. 

“You aren’t serious.” 

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup. 

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.” 

“You’re rich, too, Sam.” 

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.” 

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.” 

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now. 

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked. 

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great. 

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.  

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite. 

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule. 

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do. 

You knew better though. 

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible. 

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so. 

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work. 

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home. 

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him. 

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right. 

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary. 

It was worrisome. 

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him. 

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet. 

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.” 

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?” 

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock. 

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little. 

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore. 

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way. 

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward. 

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.” 

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall. 

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through. 

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back. 

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions. 

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty. 

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet. 

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit. 

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise. 

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that. 

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage. 

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.” 

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him. 

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude. 

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.” 

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long. 

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you. 

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips. 

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent. 

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler. 

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard. 

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool. 

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy. 

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture. 

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you. 

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there. 

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before. 

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there. 

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off. 

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was. 

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell. 

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants. 

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants. 

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip. 

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video. 

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress. 

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer. 

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream. 

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst. 

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.  

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises. 

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying. 

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks. 

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter. 

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated. 

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again. 

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing! 

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed. 

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet. 

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.” 

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work. 

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office. 

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong. 

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set. 

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet. 

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end. 

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk. 

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island. 

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. 

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were. 

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top. 

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too. 

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say. 

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now. 

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near. 

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch. 

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display. 

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face. 

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well. 

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours. 

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently. 

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace. 

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air. 

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his. 

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. 

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.” 

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine. 

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient. 

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.” 

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them. 

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core. 

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world. 

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.” 

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.” 

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.” 

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind. 

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out. 

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything. 

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. 

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure. 

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs. 

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him. 

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm. 

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating. 

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again. 

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder. 

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach. 

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind. 

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer. 

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest. 

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you. 

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him. 

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure. 

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone. 

“Good morning, Sharon.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head. 

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away. 

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant. 

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker. 

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful. 

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning. 

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts. 

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m. 

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything. 

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud. 

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was. 

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly. 

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom. 

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated. 

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off. 

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by. 

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead. 

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin. 

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt. 

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra. 

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them. 

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat. 

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right. 

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.” 

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist. 

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much. 

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you. 

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation. 

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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[bunnys-kisses]

single father simon (again!!!) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

the apartment building felt bad for simon riley. a military man with a newborn daughter, his lovely little ruby with her tuft of blond hair and big curious dark eyes. she was a spitting image of her father, except compacted into a chubby little girl.

ruby was precious though, which was why as simon's neighbour you made sure the riley's were taken care of. you'd often bring over leftovers, telling simon that it was impossible to cook for one person.

"simon." you said with your hands on your hips, "if anyone tells you that you can make a lasagna for one person is lying or trying to sell you something... which means they're also lying. so take it!" you weren't taking no for an answer!

you even went as far as to donate to him one of your old onsies from when you were a baby (it wasn't like it was doing anything in storage). it was a pastel pink with an embroidered winnie the pooh. when simon saw you holding her after he put it on her, his heart leapt. he wanted to put all of his babies in the clothes you wore when you were a baby.

it wasn't that simon was finding another womb to occupy, but you were simply so good with ruby. when he had to drive out of the city and to base or had to sit on boring online debriefs. you were more than happy to watch ruby. you worked from home at a lackluster office job, you didn't mind having the little girl nearby! she brought a little excitement to the job when you identified objects in your office.

"this is a stapler! you use this to i guess.. staple pages together! s-t-a-p-l-e-r!" then smiled at the girl in the playpen.

the nail in the coffin for simon was when you were watching her for an afternoon and all of a sudden you were feverishly knocking on the door. in your arms was the little girl, she didn't look hurt. but you looked scared.

"i'm so sorry, simon..." you swallowed, "she said her first word. i know it said between ten to fourteen months, but! i didn't think it would be almost right at ten!"

"what did she say?" simon said as he beckoned you inside, a strong arm curled around your shoulders as you carried ruby.

you looked at him with a big frown before you said, "goddamnit... her first word was goddamnit." apparently you were cutting peppers for dinner and nicked your finger. you said the word and she parroted it!

simon knew you were going to be his bride. his missuses, the new mother to his baby girl and the future mother of all the other riley kids.

the electricity between you two aided in your eventual tumbling into bed. simon spread you out on the big queen mattress as let that large cock of his bully the deepest parts of your sex. simon made sure that ruby was safe with another (much older) neighbour so you wouldn't worry. (you were already becoming so much like a mother, it was honestly endearing!!).

simon managed to take you missionary, the mating press and finally ending with doggy style. your sweet moans only made him go harder. he needed to breed his future wife!! did he maybe forget to mention that he wasn't using protection, maybe. there was no evidence that he did or didn't. but when that little piece of plastic came back positive, he was there for you.

he knelt in front of you while you sat on the toilet. his large hand in your hair, "don't be sad, love. you're already a mother to ruby, why not give her a sibling? a little brother to bully." he then took your hands and kissed you on the cheek, "we'll be a family. we could even get married tomorrow if that makes you feel better?"

you'd be married at the courthouse within the week. simon in his military finest and you in a dress that you thrifted only days prior. you had even made you own veil and it turned out well. your bouquet was flowers stolen from the front of city hall. daisies, roses and a few dandelions.

he pulled you in for the kiss, a promise that you two would be together forever. and the two day honeymoon with just the two of you (and technically the baby you carried) was nothing short of romantic. you stayed in the city, but you two played tourist. you both didn't want to be too far away from ruby. after all she was so small.

soon you became the mother of two with a loving husband. ruby and her future brother that was sound asleep in your womb as you laid cuddled up next to simon. maybe his methods were a little unorthodox to bag himself a proper mama for his daughter. but you melted into the role so easily.

"my beautiful wife." he said with his voice tinged with utter devotion. he didn't want another woman to be his daughter's mother! only you, and he had the ring to prove it.

you were the perfect wife to him and the perfect mother to ruby. and you'd only get better with your son on the way. <3

[taylorswiftstyle]

Chiefs vs Ravens | Kansas City, MO | September 5, 2024

Versace 'Medusa Bustier' - $1,325.00 For Future Reference 'Vintage 1970s Ancient Bronze Coin Necklace' - $12,750.00 Three Stories Jewelry 'Single Long Love Explosion Starburst Charm' - $590.00 EF Collection 'Diamond Mini Huggie & Prong Set Chain Stud Earring' - $850.00 Wove Made x Michelle Wie West 'Custom Diamond Tennis Bracelet’ - $5,680.00 (starting) Lizzie Mandler 'Three Row Cleo Bracelet' - $18,300.00 Howl Jewelry 'Ruby Cocoon Ring' - $4,800.00 Retrouvai 'Cushion Ruby Impetus Interlocking Puzzle Ring' - $29,100.00 Louis Vuitton 'Side Trunk Bag' - $3,950.00 Grlfrnd 'Whitney Shorts' - $115.00 Giuseppe Zanotti 'Frannie Boots' - $1,650.00

Touchdown - she’s back. Many wondered how Taylor’s style playbook would shift (if at all) for “National Sportsball Observation”: Season Two. You might recall that during her “rookie” season, Taylor’s opening outfit was, as we’re calling it now, demure. A simple, lace-trimmed white cotton tank to + denim shorts + sneakers + a Chiefs jacket she picked up at the Arrowhead pro shop. As a way of testing the waters in a completely new setting, it was a lowkey, casual entrypoint into a very headline-exploding relationship launch. As we saw her continue to show up to games, her clothing choices became bolder. Bigger jackets, taller heels, tighter bustiers, cheekier cut denim. It all signalled a growing confidence in herself — and her relationship. 

When you makeout on the field at the Superbowl, there’s no going back to demure. This denim on denim moment is obviously sexy, and yet entirely familiar to where we last left off with Taylor’s game day fashion thanks to some repeat silhouettes. Which in my opinion makes this an extremely well executed strategic start to her season - and a hot and spicy one to boot!

Bustiers: Bustiers + corsets have become TTPD’s “signature” item. She wore plenty to previous Chiefs games last year. You might even recognize this exact one because she wore it in black the night she ‘killahardlaunched’ her relationship with Travis when they were photographed leaving Saturday Night Live in October 2023. 

Jewelry Stacking: Another era-specific signature that became key over the course of TTPD. Taylor became comfortable heavily layering larger, statement pieces of jewelry over the last few years. 

Denim: Taylor wore a lot of denim last year (like the distressed Ksubis from her first game and a crystallised Area pair at the NY game). But to go denim on denim feels like a pointed “painting the town blue” democratic signal to me. 

Boots: Thigh high boots by Louboutin and Larroude were incorporated into her game day style through the winter games.  

As an aside, this particular cut and fabrication of bustier is giving me flashbacks to her 2023 MTV VMA after-party look, which was by EB Denim. Given the 2024 VMAs are next week, I can’t get over the genius use of slideshowing.

As we saw throughout Taylor’s game day fashion playbook last year, she would often employ sentimental pieces through her jewelry. Items that were named for certain goddesses, or that were adorned with a certain jersey number. It was a subtle way of bejeweling a little bit of romance into her outfit.

The ‘Long Love’ name feels both appropriate to the circumstances for why she’s at the game and it also sounds a lot like her own song “Long Live”.

For her Retrouvai piece, the brand notes that it is from their “Impetus collection” which includes a lot of puzzle motifs that they say “represent that we are each individually part of a much larger picture. The force behind this collection was thinking about the idea of purpose and drive.” Love that!

As a repeat, Taylor also rewore her 'TNT' bracelet - a custom gift to her from Travis she wore when the Chiefs won the 2023 AFC Division game against the Ravens back in January. What a full circle moment to reference as they kick off the 2024-2025 season.

Just this past summer, FFR launched a curated collection of unsigned, one-of-a-kind vintage pieces exclusive to Bergdorfs. The pieces range from the 1940s through to the 1980s.

Upon launch, FFR founder Randi Molofsky told National Jeweler, “I think the idea of vintage is in the zeitgeist, and clients are actively seeking out jewelry that has stood the test of time.”

It’s not surprising to me that Taylor would gravitate towards a stunning vintage piece like this. She’s long loved vintage fashion since she began to incorporate it into her wardrobe around the Speak Now era and really leaned into the aesthetic in the RED era. Just last summer, she acquired a vintage Cartier necklace she wore often that was valued at just above $27,000.

I reached out to Randi Molofsky directly who told me a bit of history with this special one-of-a-kind vintage piece. “This one-of-a-kind vintage necklace is the ultimate in sexy 1970s style — it’s bold and powerful and makes a real statement,” said Molofsky. “In the ‘70s, oversized medallions and chunky chains had a major moment — heavily influenced by the disco movement and Italian resort style — and that look is having a resurgence now. I love that Taylor chose vintage for this moment not only because is it good for the planet, but because these pieces have lived lives before us and they will still be treasured for generations to come.”

Taylor often will wear a lot of red-tinged jewelry to her Chiefs games as an obvious nod to their team colours which makes the Howl ruby ring make total sense here. But a part of me can’t help but smirk at the ‘three row’ bracelet and wonder if it’s an optimistic fingers crossed moment for a Chiefs Super Bowl threepeat (they won the big trophy in consecutive years in 2023 and 2024).

Lastly - those 'girlfriend' shorts? Girl, please.

Photo by David Eulitt via Getty Images

[hansensgirl]

💸 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (3/3)

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!fem!reader.

chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, SMUT, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, control kink, jealousy/possessiveness, anxiety/fear, mild foreplay, vaginal sex, rough sex, praise, degradation, dirty talk, rough sex, mild choking, deceit, lying, drinking, creampie, manhandling (a bit), size kink (cock), alluded spying/stalking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~5.6k

author’s note. | series masterlist. after a million years, here’s the final part! i hope you enjoyed this series. please enjoy the final part and don’t forget to reblog. any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

Time drags by slowly, each minute feeling longer than usual. Perhaps it’s because you don’t do much anymore. You continue with your regular routine, though waking up and going to bed early isn’t necessary.

Ari visits often, taking you on drives along scenic routes you never knew your city had. He sometimes stays with you at home, watching a movie while you feast on snacks. Any time you’re graced with his presence, he comes bearing gifts.

The first present required much convincing for you to accept. It was a set of rings with elegant jewels that cost more than your life. The mob boss placed each one on your fingers and kissed the pads of your digits, his lips so soft that you can still feel them.

You keep the rings locked up in your drawer, buried under items a thief wouldn’t bother searching through. Wearing them makes you feel like someone you aren’t—his girlfriend. No, you’re just his… something, for now.

The day after Ari’s first gift, he arrived on your doorstep with another.

Whenever you see him, he is always put-together. He wears expensive suits, and his hair is perfectly styled yet effortless. He’s considerate, too, always asking about your eating habits and making sure you’re doing more than well while under his care.

The second present was a pair of shoes you had secretly been vying for whenever you got the chance to window-shop downtown. Ari sat you down on your couch and gently lifted your feet, slipping the shoes on as if you were Cinderella, and he was Prince Charming.

His touch remained gentle, although you knew he isn’t always this way with others. Sometimes, you think of what Ari does when he isn’t with you. Does he torture his enemies? Lurk in the shadows? Visit restaurants that are really fronts for more lucrative operations?

You push these ideas out of your mind when you realize they’ll do you no good, as the older man often says. He catches you zoning out and getting lost in your thoughts repeatedly. It’s not as if you’re overthinking about yourself; you just can’t help but worry about the arrangement you’re in.

Unlike the rings, you wear the shoes with pride and a twang of guilt. You’re supposed to be paying Ari back, yet here he is, spoiling you into oblivion. You don’t want to ask him why. You figure it must be mobster gentlemanliness, right?

It’s been one month since the arrangement began, and you find you’re settling into it well. Ari makes sure of this, smoothing over all the wrinkles and ensuring that everything is the way it should be—the way he wants it to be.

You wake up in peace, noting that it’s half an hour later than you usually set your alarm. You even linger in bed, trying to recall your terrifying dream about running from a man who posed as an ally at first. But you never escaped, and now you have to catch your breath. You barely remember what he looked like.

On your bedside table—which is brand new after Ari replaced your old one—is a piece of paper you know you didn’t leave. You grab it and sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes once you brace against the backboard.

You recognize the handwriting immediately. It’s Ari’s. You don’t question when he left it, although the older man didn’t visit yesterday. Something about a deal gone wrong made him busy. You told him you didn’t mind just so he would spare you the details.

The truth is that you did mind. You mind a lot, actually. You find yourself thinking about the mob boss almost every second of the day, like he’s some crush you hope you can have all to yourself.

*Princess,

I hope you slept nicely. Don’t tire yourself too much today. I’m taking you out tonight. Please answer the door at around 1:30. It’ll be one of my associates.

*Yours forever, Daddy

You smile as you re-read each word. You appreciate the beauty of his handwriting and the fact he took the time out of his hectic days to leave you a note.

Once the rose-coloured haze disappears, you focus on the contents of the letter. Butterflies fill your stomach, but they taunt and awaken your worries instead of making you lovesick. You haven’t gone out in forever—where will Ari take you?

You get out of bed, and instead of brushing your teeth, you begin to pace along the expanse of your small bedroom. You have nothing nice enough to wear out on the town—nothing to suit your counterpart, at least. You believe you’ll look like an utter fool next to the revered man.

You eventually will yourself to calm down. You eat a delicious breakfast and search through your closet. Nothing.

The morning bleeds into the afternoon, and before you know it, there is a knock on your door. It’s the same pattern Ari used before getting himself a key to your home. You recall the orders he left on the note and rush to open the door.

You’re greeted by the face of Curtis, Ari’s most trusted associate. You’ve seen him from time to time, often staring down the girl in charge of serving the men with drinks and cigars or cigarettes. Whatever vice they want, she offers it up immediately.

Curtis doesn’t say much, and neither do you. He hands you two heavy bags—a paper one filled with boxes and a garment one—and grabs the door handle, shutting it for you. The exchange is weird, but you know Curtis is just doing his job. You can only imagine what Ari would do if he found out one of his employees went against his rules.

The mob boss has told you about his jealous streak, but you would never reveal how flattered you are that he feels that way about you. Though you chalk it up to just being business.

You turn the lock into place and set the bag on the couch, sitting next to it. Another gift! You’re more excited than you’d like to admit. With slightly shaky hands, you reach into the bag and take the tissue paper out.

It’s white with little colourful circles that remind you of confetti cake, Ari’s favourite. You baked it with him one night, and it was delicious. You giggle at the memory of him covered in flour and cake mix.

You’re gentle as you unwrap your gift. The first box is sleek, and you recognize the brand name. You’ve only ever dreamed of affording their cheapest item.

The gasp that leaves you when you take the lid off the box is audible and would make Ari chuckle. Inside is a pair of heels that gleam in the low light of your living room. You take one shoe out gently and inspect the details. They’re a work of art—and they’re all yours.

You feel like a spoiled kid on Christmas morning, squealing and gawking at everything. You close the first box and reach for the next. This one is smaller but heavier. The outside is covered in what feels like suede or velvet.

You pry it open, and your jaw drops. Inside is a beautiful diamond necklace with matching earrings. You’re not sure what the price is, but you know it must be worth a fortune. Your fingers itch to touch the jewels, but you resist the urge.

It’s too much. You can barely breathe.

As if you’re being spied on, your phone rings when you abruptly shut the box. You search for the device briefly, succeeding just at the last few trills. It’s Ari.

You answer the call quickly. His baritone voice comes out of the speaker, sounding just like honey.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greets. You can hear doors shutting on his end, as well as the click of a lighter and the telltale squeak of his chair. “Hi, Daddy,” you sigh almost dreamily.

Ari exhales audibly, and you assume he’s smoking. The thought of his nasty habit makes you wrinkle your nose. “D’you get your gifts, baby?” he asks. “Yes—but I can’t accept them, Daddy, it’s too much,” you protest, glancing back at the boxes. You realize you haven’t opened the garment bag yet.

“There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when I’m spoiling you, honey,” he chides. You fiddle with the wrinkled fabric of your t-shirt. “And if I’m hearing right, it sounds like you’re telling me ‘no’…”

Your breath hitches. No, that wasn’t your intention. “I’m not—I’m sorry, Daddy. I just– I just don’t know what to do. I’m not used to this,” you express honestly.

You’re determined to never break his rules for the next few months. You’ve already completed one—which he celebrated with a deliciously home-cooked dinner.

The older man shushes you. “I know, baby. You don’t know what to do without Daddy, hm?” he coos. The words make you feel slightly embarrassed, but it’s true. He’s the only one that has helped you cope with your new—albeit temporary—life.

You let Ari claim the following few words. Whenever he uses that title—Daddy—it’s as if he snaps you out of some stupor, and you realize what you’re doing. But when you use it, it feels like second nature.

“Don’t worry,” the older man says, attaching your name to the end of his reassurance to really grab your attention. Ari successfully grounds you. “Just do what I say, baby. Alright? You don’t have to accept the gifts, but you’ll wear them tonight,” he further explains.

“Tonight?” you repeat. “Tonight. When we go out. I have a small get-together planned with a few… friends,” the mob boss clarifies. "You know, honey, this is gonna be our first night out. Are you excited?” Ari asks, his tone a bit more light-hearted.

Admittedly, you’re much less than excited. You’re nervous—scared. But you can’t tell him this. You don’t want to be a bother.

“Y– Yeah. Of course, Daddy,” you tell Ari. You have no idea what you’re going to do. “I’m looking forward to it, baby. I can’t wait to see you all dressed up,” he hums. He picked the dress for you especially, wanting his girl to feel like a princess. “Me too… Where are we going?” you question.

“My place. You’re gonna love it, I promise,” he says. You nod your head, although the mob boss can’t see you. Ari chuckles briefly. “I’ll give you a tour once the guests are gone. They’ll be nice, but don’t talk to anyone when I’m not there, ‘kay?”

You listen to him gladly. You wouldn’t even dare to look at his other mobster friends.

“I gotta go now, baby. Call me if you need anything, alright?” Ari abruptly says, sighing deeply as if frustrated. “Yes, Daddy,” you tell him. He blows you a kiss over the phone and hangs up.

You always knew that this day would come, but you never thought it would arrive so soon. You stand up on shaky legs and read the text message Ari sends. He tells you to be ready by 9:00, and you acquiesce. You just hope that tonight goes smoothly. And quickly.

The clock ticks closer and closer to when Ari said he’d pick you up. He texted you here and there, responses quick and well-rounded. You resist using your abbreviation and onslaught of emojis.

You take your time getting ready, making sure that everything is perfect. The dress fits perfectly and is absolutely gorgeous. You ignored the price tag, knowing it wouldn’t sit well with you on the ride to his home.

You can’t help but admire yourself in the mirror, though. You feel like the movie stars you’ve always admired in their grand pictures with even larger budgets for the wardrobe, establishing them as fashion icons.

Holding your clutch to your chest, your other hand lightly touches the diamond necklace. It’s a harsh contrast to the simplicity and lightness of your gown. The pink tulle is slightly sheer but leaves much to the imagination. You spin around a bit, too, emulating your childhood princesses.

There is a knock at the door. You take a deep breath and open it, greeted by the sight of Ari.

Ari and his handsomeness. Ari and all your fantasies and weaknesses. You smile at him until your cheeks hurt, but even then, you don’t stop. You rush to hug him, squealing as he lifts you off the ground and presses a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re an angel, baby,” he says once he puts you down. You preen under his careful gaze, his kind words. “You look so handsome, Daddy,” you honestly tell him. You admire the ruggedness he keeps despite his current elegance.

He grins, and the car ride to his place is just like this. You sing praises to each other when the awkward silence becomes unbearable. Ari does most of the talking, while his trusted driver keeps the partition rolled up as classical music blares.

The older man tells you all kinds of jokes. You stare out the window whenever he catches you looking at him. His large hands remain on your thighs while yours are crossed in your lap. So far, so good, you think to yourself.

The drive goes by quickly, and soon, you pull up to his lavish mansion. It is on the outskirts of the city, nestled between tall trees resembling a forest. Ari exits the car first so that he can open the door for you.

You thank him and turn around to marvel at his house. It takes your breath away. You've never seen anything like it. Before you can ask Ari a few questions about his home, he drags you towards the entrance, hand on the small of your back at first, until he decides to loop it around your waist and pull you close to him.

“Don't worry, baby. Just be a good girl, 'kay?” Ari husks in your ear, glancing at the associate who opens the for for the two of you. You simply nod your head, words leaving your mouth as you take a peak inside.

So many people. So many eyes—all of them on you.

You gulp thickly. Ari grabs a flute of champagne from a server’s tray, offering yoou one with a telling glace. You shake your head. Even with all the alcohol in the world, you wouldn’t be able to calm down.

Ari’s hold on your waist grows firmer as men approach and speak to him. Sometimes, he strays to your ass, and you end up choking on your spit each time he does so.

You don’t recognize anyone here, except for Curtis and the other associate that had brought you to Ari the day you reckoned your fate. Neither of them spare you a glance, and if they do, you don’t notice it.

You hold onto the mob boss tightly, scared of losing him. You wouldn’t dare speak to anyone if that happened.

“Everything alright, baby?” the older man asks, once again tilting his head down to hear you better. “Yup,” you breathe out shakily, looking around. You notice that Ari doesn’t return to his normal stature, and then he realize your mistake.

“Sorry, Daddy,” you’re quick to say, and he presses his lips together in a line. “It’s okay. Don’t let it happen again,” Ari warns. “Yes, Daddy,” you diligently repeat, and he presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

Someone calls the mob boss’ name. You turn to look at who the voice belongs to, and you’re greeted by the sight of a man with two barely-clothed women hanging off his arms. You can see it in their faces—the unhappiness, the fear.

Ari can sense how tense you are, and he can sense the way Daniel has been dying to push his buttons all night.

“Price,” the mob boss bluntly addresses his colleague. The other man—the one with a goatee and an ego bigger than the entire continent—simply nods. “Levinson. Nice party you’ve got… Even nicer girl, hm?” Arthur smirks.

You can feel the stranger’s eyes on you, drinking in your appearance. You hate that feeling. You meet his gaze and he leers at your brazenly, winking and darting his tongue out to lick his lips, the action too slow for comfort.

Ari clears his throat to interrupt the moment. Daniel directs his eyes to the older man before engaging in some ‘work-related’ chatter, while you choose to focus on the women he practically holds hostage. Aren’t you just like them? Treated with more class and manners, but how long will that last?

You want to leave, but you know you can’t, and that upsets you. You have no autonomy, and for some reason, this finally upsets you after about a month of living in Ari’s precarious arrangement.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be,” he suddenly ends the conversation, snapping you out of your reverie.

Ari drags you away from the watchful, prying eyes of others. You can barely keep up with his pace.

“W– Wait, Daddy!” you call to him, but he doesn’t listen. Ari leads you up a set of stairs, and the amount of bodyguards lessen with each step, until there is no one left except for you two.

“What was that? Hm?” the mob boss questions angrily, pushing you into his personal bedroom. No one else has ever been inside it before—not even his past girlfriends.

“I– I don’t understand,” you stutter, panting as you try to catch your breath. “Really? I saw you gawking at Price,” Ari disproves. You furrow your brows. “I wasn’t! I would never,” you promise, placing your hands on his chest to placate him as best as you can.

Ari doesn’t shrug off your touch, but he does look away from you. “Please, Daddy. You have to believe me,” you continue. Ari looks back to you, and he sighs. “Promise?” he asks.

There isn’t much light in the room, save for the lamps in the corners. But you can still see the darkness of Ari’s eyes, and while it should frighten you, you can feel your panties dampen at the sight.

“Promise, Daddy,” you repeat. For added measure, you press a kiss on his nose, ready to pull away with a smile. But Ari’s hands quickly grab your face, cupping your cheeks and keeping you in place. “Daddy?”

The older man doesn’t say anything. He pulls you close and captures you in a rough kiss. It appears to be passionate, yet it screams ownership. You don’t know the difference—how could you? It feels right, it feels like what you owe the mobster. At least part of your debt, anyway.

When Ari finally pulls away, you can barely breathe. He doesn’t say a thing, and neither do you. Instead, he pushes you towards the bed, and you fall back with an ‘oomph.’

“W– Wait, Daddy–” you start, trying to sit up. Ari shushes you, pushing you back down with a small motion once he climbs on top of you. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he pants, grabbing your body and flipping you onto your stomach. Ari manhandles you with ease.

You nod your head and try to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s all moving too fast for you. “Stay still. Let Daddy make his baby feel good,” he demands, his voice hard enough to will you to listen. You still beneath him.

“Attagirl,” Ari chuckles, pulling the skirt of your dress above your ass. It was already a bit shorter than you’d like, but now everything is exposed to him. The cold air on your ass makes goosebumps rise on your skin. You shiver at the sudden cold.

“Fuck, this ass is perfect,” Ari growls, grabbing a handful of the supple flesh. He lands a sharp smack to your butt, and you gasp at the contact. It stings at first, but as the feeling dies away, you realize that you enjoy it. You grow shy with shame. “I’m gonna ruin you, princess.”

His words seem like a promise, but they sound like a threat.

“Don’t you think we should take it slow, Daddy?” you ask him, voice a pitch higher out of fear. Fear of him? Fear of his answer? “I’ve taken it slow, honey. I’ve been a gentleman,” Ari assures you.

He isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you agree with him. It’s only been a month. You haven’t known him that long.

“But this wasn’t a part of the deal,” you protest one final time. You’re quieter this time around, and Ari pauses in his tracks. There is silence for a few moments, until he speaks up. “It is now.”

That is all he says as he grabs at your panties, ripping the fabric off your skin. You gasp at his actions, and the sound turns into a lewd moan when his fingers find your folds.

“You’re soaking, baby. Like a little whore,” he coos, rubbing the pads of his digits up and down your wet skin. You shudder from the pleasure, squeezing your thighs together when Ari touches your clit. “It’s okay. Daddy loves his little slut,” he professes.

Your head spins from the pleasure, the confession, and the turn of events. Your voice catches in your throat when Ari rubs your clit, sending jolts of electricity throughout your body. He pulls sounds from you that you never knew you could make. They’re music to the mob boss’s ears.

Ari chuckles, as if in victory, when you begin to gyrate your hips to meet the movements of his hands on your pussy. He can feel his hard cock straining against his pants, and all he can think about is fucking you. He hasn’t stopped thinking about fucking you since he first saw you—and that wasn’t the day you went begging to him.

“Daddy,” you mewl, sending a rush of blood to Ari’s dick. “I’m here, baby,” he coos, picking up the pace of his fingers. His other hand plays with your ass, groping and lightly slapping the flesh as he brings you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night.

The older man makes you see stars. You’ve never felt this way before—not during the late, lonely nights under your covers.

The pressure inside you builds, and your pornographic sounds become louder. The squelching of your cunt nearly rivals your moans. “Fuck, you gonna come, honey? Gonna make a mess on Daddy’s hand?” Ari asks, his words coaxing you towards that brink.

You topple over and cry out, dripping hole clenching around nothing. As if your body is a separate entity that belongs to him, you involuntarily nod your head at Ari’s question.

“Shit. That’s it. Such a good girl,” he praises, the words going to straight to your head and making you smile through your pleasure-filled haze. You grip onto the expensive bedsheets and ride out your climax, grinding on Ari’s hand until the nerves of your clit become oversensitive.

Ari, unable to hold back anymore, pulls his fingers away and admires how they glisten with your slick. The sweet scent of your cunt fills the room, and he has the overwhelming urge to make you come apart on his mouth. But that has to wait for now.

The mob boss places his wet digits inside of his mouth, revelling in your taste. He makes a show of it, too, knowing you can see him in the mirrors that are in headboard of his bed. The sight his lewd—enough to make you throb in need and get wetter with want.

There’s a small voice in your head that sounds exactly like you. It tells you that this was never a part of the deal, that Ari shouldn’t be doing this. You find it difficult to listen to its reasoning, too clouded by lust.

You watch as Ari reaches for the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it so harshly that it breaks. In just a few seconds, he tears the fabric from your body. You gasp at the display of strength, not even having the chance to bid farewell to the dress.

Your nipples pebble from the cold air, and they rub against the bedsheets, sending a wave of euphoria through your body. “Daddy… Please,” you whimper, rubbing your thighs together as your desperation for something grows.

“I got ya, baby. Daddy’s here,” Ari shushes you, mildly slurring his words. You barely even register that this is the first time Ari has seen you naked. In fact, he never should be seeing you naked.

Ari marvels at your body, although this isn’t the first time he has done so. You’re just so gorgeous, he can’t help himself.

The mob boss begins to undress himself, not caring open the buttons that fly as the fabric stretches against his toned muscles. The velvet suit—one of Ari’s favourites, which he can always get another of—ends up on the floor. The tendrils of hair fall from the gelled style he originally had, framing is face to make the man look more rugged than usual.

He pulls down the zipper to his pants and frees his hard, thick cock from the confines of his boxers. Ari gives himself a few strokes, letting a few beads of pre-cum drip onto your ass.

You arch your back just a bit, giving the older man better access and a better view of what’s his. Ari slaps his fat tip against your leaky hole, sliding it through your folds as he teases you. When he reaches your sensitive nub, your muscles twitch slightly.

You maintain a steady hold on the sheets, bracing yourself for the intrusion. You’ve had sex before, but it was so long ago and an experience that you gained nothing from. You’re always too busy to properly treat yourself. You can imagine that this’ll feel like your first time—only better.

“You feel that, baby? Hm?” the older man asks, bending over you. One of his strong arms is near your head, used as leverage to hold himself up. “Uh-huh,” you moan, feeling how Ari’s hard cock rubs against your pussy. *He’s so big—just like the rest of him.

“S’all for you, honey. You have no idea what you do to me,” he grunts, sliding his cock back to your hole. Before you can respond, Ari begins to push into your cunt, stretching you out slowly. You breathe through the entirety of the ordeal, moaning at the intrusion and the sheer filth of it all.

When Ari finally bottoms out, his heavy balls are flush against your clit. His dick is deep inside you—you feel so full. You take a few moments to adjust to his thickness, getting up onto your forearms so that you can look at Ari.

You tilt your head upwards and make eye contact with the mob boss. His usually blue eyes are blown out with lust—a dark look to him that you’ve never seen before. Ari leans over you even more, his cock still deep inside your wet pussy.

His dominant hands moves towards your neck, and he wraps his hand around your throat after shifting upwards, almost as if he’s holding your jaw. The action frightens you, but you feel no pressure being put on your airway.

It’s the control. The fact that you’re his, and he can do anything he’d like to you.

Before you can say anything, Ari begins to fuck you. He pushes and pulls his cock in and out of you. The mob boss hits your g-spot with expertise and turns you into a moaning, pathetic mess. Ari watches you intently, never once breaking eye contact as your mouth drops open in pleasure.

Your sounds are pornographic. You don’t have a moment to feel shameful about them, though. The noises that come from his skin slapping against yours is loud. So is the squelching of your sopping cunt.

“Daddy—so deep!” you cry out, going limp in his hold. It’s as if you can feel him in your guts. You babble like a baby, making Ari chuckle. He’s dreamt of this moment for so long, and it’s better than he could ever imagine. “Yeah? Wait ‘til I try that pretty mouth a’ yours,” he whispers in your ear, biting the lobe.

The thought of Ari fucking your face creates a lewd picture in your mind. You’ve never thought about it before, but the way you pussy squeezes his cock tells Ari what you think of the idea. Even if, deep down, you didn’t the mob boss to fuck your face, he would still get what he wants.

“Shit,” you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. The older man pummels into your relentlessly, practically abusing your cunt. Ari’s dick is coated in your slick, the smell of it and sweat filling the room. “This cunt’s cryin’ on my cock—you gonna cry, too, princess?”

You don’t really register what Ari is saying, so you just nod your head like the obedient girl you are. “Good girl—always such a good slut for Daddy,” he groans, looking down to admire how your ass ripples when his pelvis slaps against the soft flesh.

You cry out as Ari pumps into you relentlessly. You can feel the euphoria build up, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. “‘S so much, Daddy…” you express through your moans, fuelling Ari’s ego. “Yeah? You gonna come all over Daddy’s fat cock, baby?” the mob boss asks.

Nodding your head, you topple over the edge of your climax. Your sounds become choked and grow even louder. Your pussy squeeze Ari’s dick, creaming around his hardness as you come undone. Ari marvels at the sight.

Your eyes squeeze shuts and your hold onto the bed sheets tightly. You’ve never felt such pleasure before—even at your own hands. It’s like Ari knows your body—and your entire being—better than you do.

“That’s it. Good girl, ” Ari growls, admiring how your leaky pussy just swallows his dick. The arch in your back is mean, but he loves it. He loves watching you take it. His once-innocent princess is now the older man’s whore. All his, forever.

The stars in your eyes dissipate as you ride out your high, coming down from it slowly but surely. It’s hard, though, as Ari is relentless in how in pounds into your cunt. “Who owns this pussy, honey? Hm?” Ari asks. He can feel his own orgasm building up, and he knows he cannot hold back any longer.

“You! S’all yours, Daddy. ‘M yours,” you mewl, and as if on cue, Ari shoves his hips forwards and he stills his movements. His heavy balls clench as he leans forward, completely covering your body with his. Ari holds onto you tightly, filling your pussy with his cum.

Ropes of his seed shoot from his tip and coat your inner walls, filling you to the brim until some of it leaks past his fat cock. He gives a few thrusts just to tease you, smiling when you whimper from the stimulation.

It’s so damn messy where the two of you are connected. Ari has the desire to clean you up, but he knows that your sweet-self wouldn’t be able to handle all that in one night. At least, for now.

When the older man finally catches his breath, he slowly pulls out of your pussy. A trail of his cum follows, leaking out and mixing with your juices. He rolls you onto your side gently, laying down next to you as he watches your face intently.

You have no clue what to say. You can’t even begin to wrap your head around what happened, especially as the haze doesn’t seem to leave any time soon.

A few moments of silence pass. Ari’s hand rubs up and down your arm, moving upwards to cup your cheek again. He drinks in very detail of your face and you watch him, too, just not with the same intensity.

“D– Daddy?” you quietly say, and his ears perk up. “Yeah, baby?” Ari responds. “What now?” you question. Where do you go from here?

“Well… I think you should get some rest,” he starts, sighing deeply and he seemingly fights back a yawn. You agree, but that’s not what you meant. “I’ll get you cleaned up, don’t worry,” the mob boss assures you.

“What about the deal?” you continue.

More silence, and the sound of Ari clearing his throat. The deepness of his voice remains as he speaks.

“I think I may have to extend it, honey,” he honestly tells you, words heavy with disappointment. You don’t really know what to think—you have no reaction, save for the small nod you give him. You’ve come to realize that whatever Ari wants, he gets. And he’s so damn greedy.

You drift off to sleep slowly, accepting your fate even though it was too late the moment you resigned and stepped into his office a month ago. It could be worse, you could be dead, you reassure yourself.

Ari stares at the ceiling and thinks about how time can fly. Soon, those promised months will turn into a year, and then even more. Just like he planned—just how it’s supposed to be.

[armpirate]

Did I say I love you? || Jungkook

Bf experience

pairing: idol!JK x fem!reader

w.c.: 6k

Warnings: smut, fluff, breast play, female masturbation, male masturbation, public sex, unprotected sex (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 26 minutes

Summary: Jungkook didn't prepare that trip with the idea of confessing his feelings, but his heart spoke up before he could control it.

MASTERLIST

Boba ball: Put smthg comfy on today

Boba ball: I'll pick u up at twelve

You were quite used to the special weekend dates you two planned, it was the only thing that made you move throughout the week in a good mood, excited for Saturday ever since Monday kicked in.

Two months back, it was his way to adapt into your life when seeing you in the evenings, after you finished your shift, wasn't enough. Although most of those dates happened usually in either of your places, because even if you liked each other a lot, you knew the risks of going out in public. Maybe that was what pulled you back from actually accepting a date from him the first time he asked you out.

You knew him long before your eyes met at your company's year-end party. His aura was already powerful when you admired him through a screen, but it was completely different when he approached you first, with a nervous smile that you thought he'd never dedicate to you. You knew everything about him before you two went on a first date, but it felt like you were discovering those things for the first time as you heard them coming out of his mouth directly. You knew the superstar, and all the consequences that'd come with it. But you also knew that boy who made dumb jokes that you'd only find funny if they came from him, because his giggles had you smiling immediately after. And with that boy you were head over heels for, you completely ignored those consequences, and were ready to face them as soon as they came.

You frowned, confused when you saw his car parked in front of your building while he waited for you, with his lower back resting against the bonnet.

Jungkook smiled as soon as he saw you doing a little run to him, ready to wrap his arms around you as soon as you stood in front of him. Although you stopped yourself from doing, holding back from also linking your lips together in a small peck, followed by a new one, and a new one, until you moved your head back to look into his sparkly big eyes, when you realized you were out in the open.

"I see you're excited for today" he joked, standing straight in front of you.

"What did you prepare?" you questioned, tilting your head.

"Hmm" he pursed his lips, looking away from you, "Should I tell you or should I let you guess?".

"You won't tell me, right?" your eyes were squinted at him, knowing him for long enough to know that he probably would keep the suspense until he thought it was the proper time to reveal it.

You hopped inside the car after he opened the door for you, seeing him surround the bonnet before he joined you and gave you all those pecks he felt only safe giving you behind the tinted windows of his car.

As he drove, you tried to guess what the surprise could be, taking in consideration the fact that he was wearing comfortable baggy clothes -not that they weren't his usual style, but he also asked you to wear something similar-, and how he brought his car instead of his motorbike.

As time went by, and Jungkook kept driving on different roads you hadn't been in before, you turned to him.

"Are we going on a trip?" you asked excitedly.

"You're close" he nodded, tilting his head while he kept his eyes on the road.

That answer left you confused, trying to think what could be close to a trip, and that'd also require you to leave the city.

"We aren't going camping, are we?" you tried to take a guess, unable to hide the hope for a positive answer with your question.

His hand laid on your knee, squeezing it as he giggled to your reaction "That's exactly what we're doing".

Your legs shook on the spot, before you took off your seatbelt and kissed his cheek out of excitement. You remembered you had mentioned it a week back, while you were watching one of the episodes of the kdrama you started watching together. It wasn't something you gave a lot of importance to, just something you mentioned because it also appeared, and it reminded you of when you used to do it with friends back home. The fact that he took all that information, and turned it into a surprise made your heart squeeze in your chest.

After twenty minutes on the road, Jungkook turned his face at you, giving you a quick smile "Is it a good plan? Or maybe you'd have preferred to stay at home and get some rest?".

"Don't be silly" you squeezed his knee, trying to reassure him that you were the happiest by his idea. "This is the best plan you could've come up with".

Your words only made him smile wider, thinking the corners of his lips would leave his face at any point by how they kept stretching whenever he was around you. It was simple: you made it all better, and seeing you excited and happy only topped that full sensation on his chest that he was feeling in that moment.

He remembered the first time he saw you, and how it all clicked even before you two spoke to each other. He thought that floating sensation that people talked about was only real in movies, but then he met you. Jungkook was convinced that the moment you two made eye contact for the first time, his feet raised from the ground and made him fly exactly where you were.

It was a non-stop need since you exchanged the first words, never getting enough and extending that small talk, that was supposed to last a few minutes, to turn it into a conversation that would only end when he dropped you at home the morning after.

He didn't even think he had that many things to talk about with anyone.

"How's work been?" he asked first.

"Good. It has been a calm week, surprisingly" you scoffed, turning to him. "What about you? How was it like to go back to the routine?".

When you two met each other, Jungkook was enjoying his last few weeks of that improvised break. He had all the time he could think of, and he invested most of it in you as soon as he met you. Calls, texts, quick visits to your company, late night sneaks to take some fresh air, or chill evenings cuddling on the couch... that was what you were introduced to after you started seeing each other after only a few weeks. And right when you were close to growing a deeper connection, he was sent back to reality -almost having him regretting getting back to work.

It still worked out.

You didn't see each other as much, but it was still enough to remind you both of how bad you actually wanted to be next to the other. Even then, your minds were still linked, to the point where the smallest thing would be a reminder of your relationship, or the things the other liked or disliked, the places you could go to together, or the things you could try to eat when you saw each other in the weekend or in those secret and short night outs in the middle of the week.

Jungkook settled everything when you arrived at the place, all while you stayed to the side while waiting for him to need your help. But he'd only turn to you every two minutes to dedicate a gentle smile to you while his nose scrunched, before he turned back to the half assembled tent.

"Are you hungry?" he turned to you with a sided smile, clapping his hands when it all was already settled.

Your stomach squeezed at the mention of food. Even if you two stopped at the resting area to get something for lunch on your way to the beach, your body was already craving for something more than some snacks.

It only took him one tiny move of your head to start walking back to his car and open the truck to get a few bags out. As you looked inside, you could see some meat packages, but also some recipients that you were sure had food inside.

You sighed, aware of all the work it took him to prepare all that for you "You should've told me, I would've prepared or bought something".

Jungkook smiled at you fondly, poking his hands inside his baggy pants. He obviously had the money to buy all the food you wanted in the world, yet there you were again: making it seem like he wasn't and he'd probably go bankrupt after buying a packet of pork belly. Maybe that was what he liked the most about you. It was always with small gestures like the one you just had, with the way you never, in those two months you had been seeing each other, made him feel out of place. You gave him a safe corner, where he was allowed to be himself, to be seen as much more than just the idol.

"If I had told you, there would have been no surprise".

You puckered your lips while smiling, thinking that he definitely had a point with that, but still feeling a bit guilty.

"Don't look at me that way" he chuckled. "I'll let you cook if you want".

"Okay. Deal".

Your upset expression quickly turned into a playful smile as you reached for the camping gas box he had brought along with the bags. Although it'd quickly disappear in a frown when you tried to understand how to get that thing to work.

You looked up to him with a naughty smile, pointing to the pan "Can you do one last thing for me?".

"Five thousand wons" Jungkook answered with a serious expression, offering his hand to you. Your smile dropped at that, feeling your eyebrows slowly turning into a straight line while you looked at him "Or, a kiss".

"Okay" you giggle, motioning him to get that thing started.

It probably was more simple than what you thought if you had only paid attention to it, but your focus was on the way the tip of his tongue peeked through his lips and moved his piercing to care about how Jungkook got that thing to work.

"Done" he sighed, catching you red handed staring at him. "What will you do if it stops working?".

"I'll ask you to turn it on again" you shrugged.

Snorting before he giggled, he bent over you to go for that peck he earned, aiming to go for a second one before you moved your head back.

He was so good at distracting you. And he knew.

As you fought to open the meat package, he saw some of your hair locks falling over your face, turning into something that could bother you to cook -at least until he took his beanie off, putting it on you so your hair wouldn't be getting in your eyes and face.

While you cooked, you could feel Jungkook's eyes on you. It was nothing new from him, but they had a special spark that day. You could feel there was something different in the way he looked at you, but you couldn't quite tell what. You just knew it made you nervous, ending up feeding him every few pieces that were cooked to try to divert his attention from you. But it only had you giggling at him while he chewed on the hot food, exhaling some air while he tried to cool it down in his mouth. And Jungkook wouldn't take long to do the same for you, taking his chopsticks before blowing on the piece so it would be at the right temperature when he offered it to you.

Just like you cooked, Jungkook offered to clean all of the things that were used, singing random verses with his honeyed voice while you just stared at him the same way he looked at you before, unable to believe everything was indeed real, and that special human being allowed you to take a spot in his most genuine and intimate side, which wasn't too far from what Jungkook kept thinking about whenever his eyes laid on you. You fitted together perfectly like puzzle pieces, and you made him feel complete, aware of how there was something missing when he thought he had everything he needed.

Right when you thought he'd sit still and finally join you to enjoy the chilly weather and the beautiful sight, you saw him walking back to his car with the bags, and returning to you with a small bottle and something that seemed like a tiny canva.

Of course his creativity wouldn't relax, not even in that short getaway.

"What's this for?" you took the canva from his hand.

"I'll explain it to you there. Let's go".

Jungkook held your hand tight as you walked into the beach, leaving behind the grassy space you had settled your camping on. You'd have expected anything, but not that he actually wanted to create a memory out of that weekend with you.

It was special, meaningful... and it also meant that he probably saw your relationship as something that could be long-term even if you had been only two months into your relationship.

"Let's put some glue on your hand" he started, holding your wrist to keep your hand stable as he traced a line on each one of your fingers and some circles to mark your palm, "and stick it on the canvas".

"You saw this on TikTok, didn't you?" you teased him, with Jungkook answering shortly with a proud nod.

You knew because you had also seen that video of a couple doing exactly what you were doing.

"It reminded me of you" he confessed with a soft tone. "That's why I picked this place".

You smiled as you followed his guidance, pressing your hand to later help him pour some sand over it. When it was his turn, you tried to make sure you poured the white glue the same way he did, marking the main lines of his big hand before he placed it next to yours.

Jungkook lifted it up with his clean hand once it was done, showing it to you proudly. That was it, apart from all the videos and pictures, that was your first memory together.

Sitting next to each other, you two looked up at the starry sky, while covered with a warm blanket Jungkook just happened to have in his car -and that thankfully he carried with him. Your hands were sneaked under it, intertwining your fingers close, while his thumb traced some nonsensical lines that made your head feel at ease.

"Thank you for today" you whispered, only moving from looking at the stars in the sky to looking at the universe reflected in his eyes.

"Thank you for every day you've spent with me" he answered back, dedicating one of the sweetest smiles you had ever seen on him.

The burning sensation on your cheeks didn't take long to show up, forcing you to move your eyes away to look back at the sky as you fought to control the wide smile that was attempting to appear across your face.

"Hmm, what wish would you make if you saw a shooting star?" you quickly tried to switch the topic.

At first, you thought it'd be a way to change his focus from you to get it back on the sky over you, but it only made his gaze feel heavier on you.

What wish could he make?

He already had everything he wanted and needed, but he still tried to find the answer to your question, going through all the aspects in his life, covering up every corner, and all of a sudden every wish had something related to you. Jungkook didn't want that to end, that was his wish. He wanted to be with you, and he felt the sudden need to know you also felt the same way.

His heart pumped against his chest harder when those thoughts started crossing his mind, trying to order them all in his head to find the best way to say them out loud and getting them to make sense so you could understand.

"That the girl I love says she loves me back".

When you first heard him, you thought that maybe your Korean failed at some point. Could be you misunderstood a word, could be you misplaced the sentence in your head as you translated it. But it didn't seem like it when you looked back at him, finding his doe eyes bigger than usual, filled with that spark you had seen a few times throughout that day.

"I love you" he pronounced each word with the softest voice, holding your hand a bit tighter as he said them. "I know it might be too early, and maybe I'm rushing it, but I really love you. I want to be with you, and have these dates for a long long time. But I also want to be there for you when you need me, and look after you when you feel weak, I...".

"I love you, too".

You couldn't contemplate a universe where you didn't tell Jungkook you wanted exactly everything he wanted. Getting to know him during that time, actually spending quality time with him as you witnessed each and every single one of his facets made all those feelings that you had for him intensify every time your lips touched.

Hell, even your body felt lighter when he only pronounced your name.

His lips felt soft in contrast with the rough metal of his two lip rings when you linked your lips together, sucking on his lower lip before you moved to suck on the top one.

You just wanted everything from him.

"Come here, babe" he whispered, breaking the kiss.

"That chair won't handle our weight" your giggle built a few centimeters of distance as your head moved back.

"It will. Come here" he assured you, letting go of your hand to move the blanket away on his side.

How were you supposed to ignore those big brown eyes when he asked for cuddles?

You held onto the warm cup filled with hot chocolate he made sure to prepare on the camping gas before you could get all cozy.

"Can you say it again this close?" Jungkook asked once you were covered by the blanket while sitting on his lap.

A scoff left your lips at his question, knowing by the look he was giving you that he wanted it to be the second of so many other times hearing those words coming from you.

"I love you" you whispered, kissing his cheek.

"That won't work" his head shook while his lips were pressed together in disappointment. "You can't say those words and kiss me on the cheek. Repeat that, please".

"I love your annoying ass" you repeated, kissing the corner of his lips.

"Wrong sentence, and wrong place again. I can do this all night" he assured you.

His sassy tone made you giggle, trapping your lower lip between your teeth before you spoke again: "I love you".

Jungkook moved his head first, capturing your lips before you could totally lean over to him. It started sweet and gentle, but both of your mouths opened a little wider with every move you made, knowing it probably would be only the beginning of a whole make out session that could last for hours if you wanted to.

Except for the chair underneath you.

You only felt your body losing stability, and a loud gasp announcing the soon landing on the ground before you were actually aware of what happened.

Your cackles could probably be heard from meters away once you both made sure the other was okay, except for the hot chocolate messing up your oversized sweater and staining a bit of Jungkook's hoodie -although it was barely noticeable through the black fabric.

He got up first to help you stand up, holding your hands tight to make sure you wouldn't trip in the process.

"Look at your clothes" his concerned face made you giggle, thinking that he was more worried about it than you. "Change it and wear this".

Your mouth went dry when he took his hoodie off by pulling the neck up, making the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath rise with the fabric and expose his well-marked abs. You could feel your hormones start boiling up with that slight exposure of skin, feeling like you were back in your teenage years when the smallest thing was instantly connected to sex.

It was his power though.

Ever since you started dating, and even if you two tried to assure a normal date, the desire and hunger you felt for each other was always bigger than your willpower. Neither of you ever got enough of it. And that night would be no exemption.

"Babe, what are you thinking about?" he scoffed, looking at your blank expression as you held his hoodie tight in your hands.

But he already knew what was going on through your head. He could easily recognize the way your eyes darkened with some thoughts, and how you instinctively bit your lower lip to suppress them.

"Nothing" you shook your head, trying to get back to reality.

But it was too late to escape your ideas, because Jungkook already had a glimpse of them.

"Let me help you take off your sweater" his eyebrow raised with pettiness, stepping closer to you.

He blew into his hands, rubbing them together to warm them up before he started lifting your sweater slowly, making your body squirm lightly when the reverse of his fingers touched your stomach for the first time. The smirk told you everything you needed to know in that moment: he was going to help you give in to those filthy thoughts that flashed through your mind at the speed of light.

His nose rubbed against yours softly, almost getting your lips to touch as his hand moved dangerously close to your bra.

And you were already lost in him and his touch. With your boyfriend not having to do much more than just move his finger through your torso to have your knees almost shaking, eager for the kiss that would get you to lose your balance.

Before Jungkook could kiss you to let all his intentions be known, you moved your head back while a palm stopped him by his chest.

"Someone could see us" you giggled nervously.

"There's no one around. No one will see us. Don't worry" he assured you with a honeyed tone, rubbing right below the arch of your bra.

You both had tried to be careful with your relationship since the beginning. Barely going out -or showing no affection in public when you did, acting like strangers-, unable to act like a normal couple because the weight of his image was always heavier than your relationship. That, now that you were alone in the middle of nowhere, just lighted up by the fire he started, had you paranoid of someone popping up out of nowhere.

Jungkook was relaxed about it though.

Two of his fingers hooked on your chin, linking your lips together on a sweet kiss that would wash all those worries away, knowing a little bit too well how to get you to focus on him only.

Not even his smile kept you from moving along when your arms wrapped around his shoulders, sinking your fingers in the strand of his short locks as you tried to deepen the kiss. You could feel his mouth opening a bit wider when the tip of your tongue played with his lip rings, asking permission to get through. A gasp was shut down and drank by him when the hand on your torso moved down it until it reached your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks to pull you closer to his body and allowing you to feel the way his bulge started to grow against your lower belly. His hand moved a bit lower, digging in the link between your legs to steal a moan from you, when his fingers teased your pussy over your sweatpants.

You broke the kiss first, pulling from his lower lip, sucking on it, until it freed from your grip with a loud pop sound. Your open-mouthed kisses through his throat and neck, giving attention to every single mole in it, were also in sync with your silky and cold fingertips digging down his t-shirt, hearing Jungkook's groan above you by the contrast with his warm skin. You could feel the way his muscles contracted as you traced down your fingers over them, pulling playfully by the earrings on his left ear to get him to squirm and giggle because of it.

Your clit throbbed when his fingers digged over your clothed pussy "You aren't naked yet, and I can already tell how wet you are" his raspy voice teased you, while his fingers traced circles over your entrance.

"I haven't touched you directly, and I can tell how happy you're to see me by just doing this" you grinded your pelvis against his, feeling how hard and big he already was. "You're in no position to tease me about that".

"Get inside the tent".

You obeyed, taking your shoes off before you crawled inside the tent he settled earlier that afternoon. Before Jungkook could join you and tell you to get naked, most of your clothes were already gone, only having your underwear left. And when he joined you, he was also dressed with only his boxers, kicking his pants inside the text to crawl inside and close the zip.

It didn't take him long to kiss you again, with hunger and neediness, that you easily recognized because it was the way he kissed you whenever you were in that situation, moving his lips dominantly over yours while his tongue fought against yours.

The straps on your shoulders felt loose when he moved his hand through your back, moving the fabric away until it was blocked by your elbows on the flood, although it was just enough to expose your tits.

His tongue moved around your stiff button, almost as if he was preparing you for the moment he moved his flat tongue over it, sending an instant electricity through your spine. While one hand held your back, covering most of it, to keep you arched, his other hand reached to your mouth, moving his thumb in between your lips for you to suck it. He felt every rugosity as it got harder against his muscle, with his dick twitching in his boxers by the way you sucked on his finger.

"You're so beautiful, love" he admitted with a raspy voice, giving a peck in the middle of your breasts. "And you taste so good, too...".

Those last words were almost muffled with his lips enclosing around your nipple, moving his thumb away from your mouth so he could move it around the other one, just like he would have with his tongue, just to later pinch it at the same time his teeth bit on the other to get a loud gasp from you.

Suddenly the straps of your bra were a bother, keeping you stranded from touching him until you took it off completely. Your fingers sank in his hair again, making sure he wouldn't move away from that spot, while your other hand moved back his wide back with a soft caress that almost made him go insane.

Jungkook was too focused on the way you tasted, on the sounds you made, and the way your body squirmed under his, to notice the moment your hand moved to the front and digged in his boxers until your fingers wrapped around him.

The chilly air made you hum when he moved your panties aside, sliding two fingers through your slit until he found your entrance. He slid them into you slowly, until they were knuckles deep into your pussy. The steady in an out pace made your heart a little bit faster, and your mind clouded a little bit more, driving you crazy when he added a thumb on your clit, to tease you back by the way your fingers wrapped a little bit tighter around him whenever they reached his tip.

His fingers curled inside of you, tempting a spot that almost turned your spine into hot tar as he moved them up and down against that sensitive spongy spot, with your legs trembling the longer he went on it.

"Kook..." you tried to warn him.

"I know, babe. Cum on my fingers".

He said those words while his chin rested on your chest, admiring your face as he helped you be teared apart. Jungkook loved seeing how those lovely and innocent eyes went all lustful and dark when he did those things to you. He loved knowing he was the only one who could see you that way.

Your fingertips digged on his scalp, and your fingers set him free as your wrist twisted with the pleasure that ran over you, and took control over your body, when Jungkook awarded you with an orgasm.

You took a few seconds to get back at yourself, looking down at him with hooded eyes and a pleased smile, before you pulled him again for a kiss.

Your bodies moved almost at the same time, reading through each other as you sat on your knees to get rid of the remaining pieces of clothing to be fully naked.

Jungkook dragged you with him, sitting with his legs crossed, while his hands guided you to wrap yours around his body.

"Wait, the condom..." you reminded him, breaking the kiss.

"Fuck, I didn't bring any" he whined, throwing his head back.

"I didn't either" you puckered your lips, holding onto his shoulders. "It's alright" you shrugged, moving your hands up to his neck ", I'm on the pill".

"Alright" he purred, giving small kisses that never fully ended up with him sucking your lower lip.

One of his hands never left your body, always making sure you knew he was there for you, while the other lined himself up to your entrance.

You both moaned in sync when you helped him, lowering your hips slowly to take him in inch by inch, feeling him stretch you out and getting used to him while your walls wrapped around him perfectly.

One hand was supported on his thigh, while the other found some support around his shoulder and neck, finding the perfect stability to start moving the best you could in that position. He dedicated you one sweet smile before you felt attracted to his lips, feeling the need to kiss him even if it'd be interrupted every few seconds by your gasps and moans, or your sudden need to get more air.

"Are you comfortable like this?" he tried to make sure, rubbing his palm on your flexed thigh.

"Uh-hum" you nodded, too concentrated on the way his cock felt every time you dug it back in after lowering your hips.

"You're such a goddess" he caressed your cheek.

Jungkook was the type to do dirty talk whenever you had sex. He loved the blush on your cheeks, or your fucked out face whenever he said something that'd have you slapping his face in any other context. But he also loved showering you with love and praises when the mood asked for it. And that night he only wanted to worship your body, stare at you as you took him in and admire the way your lips parted whenever his tip rubbed over the right spot every few thrusts.

When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at you with that particular look he had given you many times before, making you smile almost instantly. You wrapped your arms around him, gluing your torsos together as you worked on him.

"I love you" he whispered against your lips, moving your locks away from your face. "I'm so in love with you" he repeated, almost as if he indeed wanted to leave it clear for you.

Your answer was interrupted by a sudden moan, before you tried to speak again "I love you, too" you let him know with a high-pitched voice, resting your forehead on his.

Your fingers dented on each other's skin, tried to get ready for the new wave of pleasure as your pulse started racing up and your breaths got heavier and more difficult with every move. There was desperation in his eyes as you looked into them, knowing your eyes were probably reflecting the right same thing with every move you made. His needy short moans almost made you lose yourself, delighting yourself with those sounds and knowing that was one of the few things you'd want to keep hearing for the rest of your life.

Both of your moans turned messier and cracked, while your fast and determined moves turned into arrhythmic and sloppy as all the hairs in your body raised with the new orgasm. And even though you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, spilling his seed, Jungkook held you close and tight, caressing you through the last few and slower moves until you stayed completely still on top of him.

The only things that could be heard in the tent were your shaky breaths, and the fabric of the bed beneath you wrinkling as Jungkook adopted a more relaxed position for his legs.

"Did I already say that I love you?" Jungkook inquired, looking up at you.

You didn't answer with words, but you did answer with a happy giggle and an intimate peck that quickly evolved into a deeper kiss.

The next afternoon, after eating lunch early on the beach, he drove you back home. Jungkook's hand rested on your thigh, while the other kept the wheel controlled, dedicating you a few looks every few minutes just to get to see you smile again.

"Are you sure you don't want to spend the night?" you asked, after Jungkook parked his car in front of your building.

"I'd love to" he assured you. "But I have a schedule tomorrow, and I don't want to wake you up earlier than needed. I'll send you a text when you wake up".

He always did.

Jungkook learned your habits the more time he spent with you. So even if he woke up earlier and you weren't together, his good morning message always showed up on your screen at the same time your alarm blasted to interrupt your sleep.

"Don't stay up too late" you asked him.

Although Jungkook gave you an accusing look, reminding you you were always the reason he stayed up later than what he planned first.

"I won't answer your tests after nine. This time I mean it" the threat you just threw at him was probably the biggest lie you had ever told him.

"You will, unless you want me to show up here five minutes later".

And he'd certainly be able to.

"You're so annoying" you scoffed, shaking your head.

"But you love me anyway".

Jungkook had been dying to say that sentence and for it to be true for a long few weeks already. And the fact that he was already able to say it with certainty that it was true made him proud, and you could tell by the way his voice sounded cheerful as he said it.

"I do. That's why I'm telling you to rest well" you repeated.

"I'll try my best" Jungkook assured you.

"Send me a text when you get home" you softly said, leaning over to kiss him.

"I will" Jungkook always did, but you liked reminding him.

After giving him one last peck, you got out of the car and walked to your house. Not without turning to him a few times to wave goodbye at him and manage to see his smile one last time before you close the door to your building behind you. 

Taglist: @ttanniett

[justlemmeadoreyou]

1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience. 

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs. 

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!" 

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.  

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.  

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.  

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow. 

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service. 

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.  

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"  

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?" 

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage. 

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed. 

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

feedback | masterlist

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[harryslittlefreakk]

after the storm

summary: y/n wakes up in her sworn enemies bed, with a city-wide storm keeping her trapped there. in the time that she’s stuck with harry, can they overcome their differences and build a friendship? 🫢🤷

warnings: smut (oral f receiving, unprotected unrealistic shower sex) some angst, typical enemies to lovers

wordcount: 6.6k

a/n: you guys who likes my lil graphic? its diy!! i’ve been slowly working on story for a long time now so i hope you all enjoy! 🤭

my masterlist is here 💓 love u all

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The headache pounding behind your eyes was the first thing you noticed that morning. Shortly followed by the realisation that you weren’t in your pyjamas, or your bed, and there was a man snoring next to you.

You didn’t even remember coming home with anyone, let alone someone who looked so attractive, albeit from the view you had of the back of his head. There was something familiar about the bedroom, though you couldn’t put your finger on what. The clothes folded on the dresser were the same as every other man’s, the lingering scent of woody aftershave new and yet so familiar. Perhaps it was the memory of whoever you’d met last night, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew this man.

You needed to explore, the leftover alcohol in your system urging you to get out of bed and figure out whose bed you’d woken up in.

It didn’t take much detective work, however, because as soon as you sat down on the toilet, the man in question barged into the bathroom. “Oh, morning.”

No way. No fucking way. “What are you doing here?”

“This is where I live.”

“Why am I here?”

“Why do you think?” he smirked.

Harry fucking Styles. Your sworn enemy, the worst man you’d ever met, the worst man you would ever meet. And you were wearing his clothes, after sleeping in his bed. Your skin itched just thinking about it.

“Fuck off,” you growled, throwing the toilet paper at his stupid, sleep-clouded face.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he laughed, staring down between your legs as he closed the bathroom door. All you could do was let out a hoarse scream. How had an innocent Friday night turned into this?

You looked yourself over in the mirror when you were done, Harry’s t-shirt hanging loose on your body. You kicked the door open, glaring at his reflection as you splashed water over your face. “How do I get to the station?”

He shoved his phone in front of you, a severe weather warning flashing up on the screen. Public transport was down, taxis and delivery drivers ground to a halt as the rain and hail pounded the pavements.

“Brilliant. I’ll walk then,” you sneered, barging past him. “Just wait it out,” Harry told you, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I can walk.” What did he not understand about this being the last place you’d ever choose to be?

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

Realistically, you knew you couldn’t make the 45 minute walk across town in this weather. You hadn’t even taken a coat out with you, and borrowing clothes off Harry just meant you’d either have to see him again, or hang on to his clothing. Neither was appealing to you at all at this moment in time. Still, you were prepared to risk hypothermia if it meant getting away. The idea of being trapped with anyone while deathly hungover was horrible, but with Harry it became your own personal hell.

He followed you to his bedroom, watching from the doorway as you shoved your belongings back into your tiny shoulder bag. “My fucking phones dead,” you groaned, throwing your head back.

“Just wait until the rain eases off. I’ll drive you to the station later.”

“I don’t want to be here, Harry. What do you not understand about that?” Just the way he was watching you was making your blood boil. You weren’t even an angry or spiteful person, but somehow Harry triggered some red hot rage that usually lay dormant deep inside of you.

He was opening and closing his mouth, scarily similar to a fish. One of the deep sea weirdo ones, with extra fins and holes for eyes. His eyebrows knitted together as he searched desperately inside his dim brain for something to say.

“We didn’t sleep together,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“We didn’t sleep together,” he repeated.

You froze, not quite sure how to respond. You hadn’t slept together. Half of you wanted to thank every God in existence, the other half wanted to punch Harry right in his smug face. “Then why the hell did you make me think we did?!”

He shrugged, tiny hints of regret showing on his face. If you were less pissed off right now, you’d consider this a miracle. “Was funny five minutes ago.”

You glared at him, incredulous. “You swear we didn’t?”

“Promise. Look, jus’ let me shower and then I’ll stay in here out of your way. Don’t even have to talk to me for the rest of the day.”

Finally, you nodded, resigned to your fate. “Fine.”

“There’s a charger next to the sofa,” he told you, slipping past you to grab some clean clothes from the dresser. “So you can tell your boyfriend you’re here.”

“Idiot,” you groaned as you walked away, slamming the door shut behind you.

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You hated to say it, but Harry’s apartment was actually nice. Much nicer than yours. You had no idea what he did for work, but it must have been something good if he could afford a place like this. There was a skylight over the sofa, practically putting you in a trance as you watched the rain drumming against the glass.

You’d been flopped on the beige sofa for what felt like years, your hangover slowly easing off but your current situation not getting any easier. Why, out of all the places you could’ve been stranded, did you end up here? You’d been racking your brains for hours, and as far as you could remember, Harry wasn’t even at the bar. If he had been, he would’ve come over. He’d stopped hanging around your group so much once you’d started bickering, he was irritatingly respectful of your space. But whenever you saw each other, neither of you could resist the temptation of a little sparring match to spice up the night.

You were so deep in thought that you hadn’t even noticed the lights turn off, the tv suddenly flicking to a black screen. It was the deep rumble of thunder that bought you crashing down to Earth, a tiny whimper slipping out when you heard it. Rain and hail were little more than an inconvenience, but you drew the line at a thunderstorm. You’d loved them when you were younger, glued to the windows with your dad as you watched the lightning illuminate the sky. But something changed one day, a new fear set in after a nightmare. You were sitting on top of a hill, a picnic laid out in front of you, when the clouds suddenly turned bright orange and lightning started striking the houses below you. You’d watched in horror as every strike set fire to the roofs, the entire neighbourhood going up in flames and getting closer and closer to you. Then you woke up in a cold sweat as the lightning came nearer, the next strike sure to take you out had you not bolted upright in bed.

“Harry,” you called out as loud as you could manage. You might not like him, but you’d rather have his company than sit through a thunderstorm alone.

When he trudged into the room, you were sitting upright on the sofa, the blanket pulled over your head. “What are y’doing?” he asked, yanking the blanket off of you. “Don’t like thunder,” you told him, squeezing your eyes shut as it boomed overhead again.

“Did the power go out?”

You nodded, watching from squinted eyes as Harry searched across the kitchen counters for something. He walked back over to you with a lighter, and started to light the candles scattered across the room. “Wanna watch something?” he asked you, pointing to his collection of dvds. “You pick,” you told him, too terrified to even comment on why he still owned dvds in 2024. You’d have to save that for later.

He picked one, pushing it into the tv’s dvd player before coming to sit beside you and setting it up. You glanced over at him, your current proximity making your heart race more than the thunder and lightning could ever. You had some sort of problem when it came to men acting as saviours. You were too into rom-coms, too romantic to not develop a sudden and unexplainable mini crush on your knight in shining armour. And clearly, now you had gone a little bit mental.

A clap of thunder shook the room again, and you smacked a hand down on Harry’s arm, your nails digging into the skin. “Harry,” you whimpered. He put his hand on top of yours, grounding you slightly. “It’s okay,” he smiled. “Did no one ever tell you it’s just God rearranging the furniture?”

You loosened your grip as the thunder passed, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “No. And besides, that doesn’t help. A reason for the loud noise doesn’t make the loud noise any less scary,” you told him, brows knitted as you looked between your hand and his face. He was about to shoot something back, but lightning illuminated the room, your expression changing quickly back to one of fear.

Harry threw himself down on the sofa behind you, tugging at the hem of your (his) t-shirt. “Come here,” he beckoned, pressing play on whatever dvd he’d chosen. “Why?”

“Because it’ll take your mind off the storm.”

“No.” He was holding out his arms to you. Clearly he’d had a funny turn and was expecting you to snuggle with him. Sleeping in the same bed against your free will was one thing, but actually choosing to cuddle with Harry was something you’d have to bring up with your therapist later. And yet, the offer was somehow tempting. But you couldn’t control your face, and somewhat-accidentally sent Harry a scathing look.

“Fine. Enjoy the storm then,” he grumbled, standing up to stalk back to his room. You stayed silent as he left, waiting until his bedroom door slammed shut to throw the blanket back over your head.

Only, a few minutes later he was back. You could feel his stare burning through the blanket, and he was standing there like a giant dork when you peeked out. “What if I’m scared and I need a hug?”, he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You couldn’t deny Harry was funny, even when you were bickering and snapping back and forth, he’d always make you laugh. And that was more infuriating, because why are you laughing at his jokes when you’re supposed to be annoyed? “Fine. But only because you’re scared.”

You leaned back into his arms, and he was right. It was a welcome distraction. Instead of thinking about the storm and anticipating the next rumble of thunder, you were actually quite content. Although one thing was playing on your mind. “Harry, why do you have the notebook on dvd?”

You craned your neck to look back at him, shifting slightly in his arms so you could see his face. “S’my favourite,” he shrugged sheepishly. “And what time will your boyfriend be home?,” you mumbled, recoiling when he jabbed a pointed finger at the tip of your nose. “Quiet please,” he told you. You turned your attention back to the tv, settling back into Harry’s body.

He was comfortable. That was one more thing to add to your list of irritatingly good qualities about him. He was a good cuddler, caring, funny.. it seemed like that list was growing longer with each minute you spent with him. You pulled his arm tighter around you as thunder crashed overhead, softer this time. “Getting further away now,” Harry whispered, his thumb stroking the fabric of your shirt as if you’d laid this way a thousand times before.

Your eyes were growing heavy, your heart beating in time with each gentle movement of Harry’s thumb. You were too warm, too comfy.

And then a loud vibration practically shook the sofa under you. “Fuck. Sorry,” Harry said, darting to shut off his phone. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy and disorientated. Naps always made you feel all weird and out of sync. You turned around slowly to lay on your back, glancing up at Harry in your peripheral vision. “Missed the whole movie,” he told you, eyebrows raised as he nodded toward the tv. The power was back on, the lights bright against the layer of fog clouding your eyes. “Gonna call them back,” Harry murmured, holding up his phone as he climbed over you.

You were perched on the edge of the windowsill when Harry came back into the room, watching the raindrops drip down the glass. He went into his fancy little wine fridge, pulling out a bottle of red. He held it up to you, eyebrows raised as he silently asked if you wanted any. You nodded before turning your attention back to the rain. The thunderstorm had passed now, the skies finally beginning to lighten up despite the heavy rain. Harry came to join you with two big glasses, as if he’d poured as much wine as he could fit into them.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Thinking back, you didn’t actually know where it all started. Harry was nice enough the first time you’d met, then somehow rude and arrogant the next. He was the cousin of one of your friends, and started to worm his way into your group when he moved to the area. He was harmless, but he knew he was a pretty boy. Every night out was spoiled by him lingering by the bar, flashing his dimpled grin at any girl who caught his eye. He’d buy her a drink, then leave hand in hand with her, always looking back to see if you’d noticed his exit. Everything he did made you roll your eyes, every glance at your legs when you wore a mini skirt, every time he tried to snake an arm around your shoulders as you laughed with the group.

“You’re arrogant.” Proven by the fact that only arrogant people would ask why they’re disliked.

“No one else has ever told me that.”

“Maybe they’re not as truthful as I am.”

He laughed at this, swilling the wine around his glass. You watched as it stained the sides red, the blood colour dimmed under the grey skies. “If I were that bad, y’wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m not here by choice.”

“No, I mean you wouldn’t have ended up here at all.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry’s eyes were squinted when he looked back at you, some kind of secrecy flashing across his pupils. “Let’s call a truce,” he told you, holding out his free hand for you to shake. “Just for however long this storm lasts, you have to play nice.”

“I am playing nice. You’re the one who played tricks on me.”

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair when you didn’t reach out to take it. Your gaze was fixed on the window, seemingly uninterested in what Harry was trying to offer. Truthfully, a truce sounded nice to you. You were wasting so much energy on acting indifferent to him. But with the way he looked after you during the worst part of the storm, the way he held in the giggles you knew he wanted to let out as you cowered in fear of the thunder, you were scared you might actually end up liking him. The horror. The last thing you ever wanted to find out was that you’d wasted years hating him, mentally criticising his every move, just to find out he’s a good guy after all.

“Raindrop race,” he said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“We do a raindrop race,” his head nudged toward the window. “If I win, we call a truce. If you win, you decide if you want a truce or not.” Harry had his usual silly, toothy grin spreading across his cheeks. There was something annoyingly cute about his smile, the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples carved deep into the skin. “Fine,” you laughed.

“Okay, pick yours. This is mine,” he pointed to a tiny droplet near the top of the window. Your eyes gazed over the drops near Harry’s, before settling on one just to the right of his. After Harry yelled “go!”, you followed yours with a pointed finger, trailing down the surface of the window as you spurred your little raindrop on. You didn’t actually care who won, but you were far too competitive to let him win.

They were neck and neck, Harry’s tiny raindrop somehow collecting water from those around it to become almost the same size as yours, and surprisingly just as fast. There were little childlike giggles tumbling past his lips, his free hand balled into a fist as he cheered his raindrop on.

Yours took over suddenly, surging forward before it came to rest on the windowsill. You couldn’t hold in your laughter, watching Harry’s face fall in disbelief. “Looks like I get to decide our fate,” you teased, a smirk resting on your lips.

Harry chuckled, his eyes searching your face for any sign of what you might do. “Truce please,” he encouraged, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine. Since you asked so nicely,” you grinned, holding out a hand for him to shake. Harry took it, bowing his head to you before hopping off the windowsill and padding into the kitchen. “Last of our supplies,” he told you, holding up one final bottle of wine and a bag of crisps. “Best make it count then,” you laughed, downing the last sip left in your glass.

Harry went back to the sofa, and you trailed after him, plopping down on the corner. “Tell me something about you,” he said, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa. “I don’t know. You know me,” you shrugged, turning a little to face him. “Fine. What was your first impression of me?”

You shrugged again, gaze falling to the wine glass in your hands. “Thought you were funny. Seemed nice enough,” you told him. Harry laughed, a bitter kind of chuckle. “So where did it all go wrong?”

“Harry, even you have to admit that you were a douche.”

“How?”

“How?!” You couldn’t believe he was asking how. “You’d saunter around the bars, always scouting for which girl you’d take home next. You didn’t even greet me the next time you came out because you spotted a girl behind me.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous.”

You scoffed. “Not fucking jealous. It’s gross.”

He held up a hand, faux-stern expression on his face. “Truce! We have a truce. Don’t wanna break it already.” He had a point. You’d called a truce not even ten minutes ago, and you were already getting riled up again. “You started it,” you mumbled, always reduced to the mindset of a child when you bickered with Harry.

“Don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything,” he smirked, miming zipping his lips. You turned away from him, deciding it was better to sit in silence and try to calm down than risk getting into a full blown row with him when you couldn’t even leave.

After a while, Harry set his wine glass down on the coffee table, getting your attention. “You really don’t remember how you got here?” he asked.

“No, Harry.” Honestly, you didn’t. The last thing you could recall was stealing a cigarette from someone on the street outside the bar, and then a freaky flash forward to waking up next to Harry.

“I was walking past O’Connells and you were on the street alone. All your friends had left and you couldn’t get a taxi, they kept refusing you because you were drunk,” he started explaining, setting his near-empty wine glass down on the coffee table. You were finally paying full attention to him now, an ear turned towards the sound of his voice as if he was telling the most compelling story of all time. “I don’t know where you live, you kind of stopped making sense. So I brought you here,” he shrugged. “Sorry.”

You took a moment to fully digest his words, his kindness to you a tough pill to swallow. The tears that formed on your lower eyelashes were unstoppable, regret bubbling up through you. You’d been a dick the entire day, and while it was a little bit deserved after he made you think you’d slept with him, all he’d done since was show you kindness and care. “Don’t have to be sorry Harry. I’m sorry,” you whispered, pulling your glass up to try and hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He placed a gentle hand on your knee, his touch warm on your bare legs. You hated wearing trousers indoors, a t-shirt, panties and socks the only way you were ever comfortable. Yet now you felt too exposed, too vulnerable in front of Harry. “It’s okay,” he told you, his tiny smile laced with tenderness. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft and shaky. “For looking after me,” you finished, finally drawing your eyes up to meet Harry’s.

He moved a little closer, bringing his arms up to wrap you in a hug. Only as he started to embrace you, you felt something change in the air. The wine had made your brain fuzzy, your senses heightened and yet muddled. You were struck with an overwhelming desire to kiss Harry, to make it right between the two of you, and that’s what you did. You turned your head just a little, closing the distance between you tentatively, waiting to gage his reaction. But he pulled back quickly, his arms dropping limply into his lap.

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, scurrying across the room before you could do anything to embarrass yourself further. You leaned back against the breakfast bar, eyes fixed on the rain drumming against the window. All you could do was replay the way his lips peeled away from yours, the full body cringe making you want to curl up in a ball and scream.

You could feel Harry’s eyes on you, his gaze silently trailing across your body. You looked back at him, eyes meeting amongst the almost palpable energy clouding the air. And then he was striding over to you, wrapping a strong arm under your hips and lifting you onto the countertop. He paused for a minute, an unsatisfied yearning in his eyes. He reached out with a gentle hand, pushing some hairs from your face as the other snaked around your waist. And then his lips were on yours, slow at first as if trying to taste and explore you. But with every lick of his tongue the kiss deepened, his movements becoming more urgent and passionate. Harry’s hands were roaming across your body, trailing goosebumps over every curve. The heat was intoxicating, the burn almost physical as you wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck, drawing him closer to you.

Your legs were tight around his hips, pulling his centre close to your core. It was electric, so much being spoken through silent mouths. Every touch, every flick of his tongue had you melting into Harry, the walls you’d built up crashing down around you. “Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he drawled as he pulled away, running his thumb along your swollen, wine-stained bottom lip. You nodded in agreement, still dazed from the way he kissed.

He grabbed a hold of the hem of your t-shirt, eyes locked on yours as he waited for you to tell him to stop. When nothing came, he pulled it off of you, throwing it to the floor behind him. You watched the way his eyes darkened as they trailed over you, the goosebumps that dotted your skin disappearing under the heat of his gaze. “Want to know why I act that way with you?” Harry asked, still surveying the sight before him. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger when you didn’t respond, his free hand pulling your chin upwards to look him in the eye. You nodded again, totally silenced by the way he was looking at you. His lips found your collarbone, kissing and suckling at the skin. “Because,” he murmured against you, pausing to lick a warm circle around your nipple.

“I,” he suckled at the bud, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Wanted,” he was moving lower now, one hand caressing your other breast as he licked down your ribcage.

“You.” He sunk down in front of you, mouth lingering right at the waistband of your panties, eyes fixed on yours. Your chest was heaving as he bought a hand up to it and pushed you back, the marble countertop cold against your skin.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of Harry’s gaze. His fingers traced slow circles on your stomach, igniting a heat inside of you that melted away any other feeling. You were totally powerless, totally at his mercy as he peeled off your panties, eyes never leaving your face.

“Couldn’t handle this sweet pussy not being mine,” Harry told you, voice husky as he ran a light finger through your glistening folds. His hot breath against your entrance had you squirming, his lips so close and yet not close enough. He was admiring you, almost salivating - until you suddenly snapped your legs shut. “I haven’t showered,” you whispered, suddenly hyper aware of how unclean you felt. “Don’t care,” Harry said, pushing a hand between your knees to open you up for him again. “Just means you’ll taste sweeter f’me,” he groaned, finally making contact with your pussy.

His thumb brushed over your clit, replaced instantly by his mouth. He suckled at it, the sudden sensation drawing an almost carnal moan out of you.

His tongue swirled around your entrance, collecting your juices on his tongue as he moaned into you. Your hands tangled themselves in his curls, the burn of your fingernails digging into his scalp only spurring him on. True to his word, he was licking and lapping at your folds as if they held the sweetest nectar.

You were dripping for him, dripping on him, the lower half of his face coated in your juices. It was the wine, you told yourself, and the forced closeness to him. Not him, not the fact that he was giving you the best head of your life.

“Waited so fucking long for this,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss and nibble around your inner thighs as his thumb rubbed over your clit. You were squirming under him, your legs heavy on his shoulders. “Yeah?” you panted, fingers pulling harshly on his hair as his mouth suddenly moved back to your pussy.

��All mine now though,” Harry smirked, his words vibrating into your centre. “All your- fuck,” you cried out, unable to control yourself as he slipped a finger into you, his tongue still working at your core. He added another, then another, filling you until you were bucking into his mouth. He found your g-spot with ease, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched you writhe and moan.

“I’m-” you started, cut off by a ripple of pleasure moving through you.

Harry released your clit from his mouth with a pop, his fingers unrelentingly thrusting into you as his mouth snaked up your body. “You’re what?” he grinned, his face only inches from yours.

“I’m gonna-”. This time Harry cut you off with another kiss, your juices warm on his tongue as it danced around your mouth. You wouldn’t pair pussy juices with red wine, but on Harry’s tongue they tasted heavenly.

He pulled away, eyes dark as he watched you squirm and buck under him. “Gotta say it for me,” Harry told you. You felt like you were buzzing, hot pleasure vibrating every part of your lower body. “I’m gonna come,” you cried out, the ball of heat in your core threatening to explode.

As soon as you said it, Harry’s lips crashed to your neck, suckling and biting at the soft skin. It was the final bit of stimulation you needed, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you finally reached your high. “Good girl,” he repeated, working you through your orgasm until your back collapsed down, flush to the countertop.

You were panting and heaving as Harry pulled you to sit up, hissing as the cold of the stone hit your clit. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your body threatening to crumble if you didn’t support yourself.

“Come on,” Harry whispered, lifting you up. He carried you over to the sofa, resting you on his lap as he sat down. “You okay?” he asked as you stayed silent, totally numbed by the strength of your orgasm. You just stared at the identical triplets of him in your vision, trying to focus on the real one before you. His eyes were raking over your features, your puffy fucked-out eyes and swollen wine tinted pout. Your cheeks were pinked up to match your lips, tiny beads of sweat on the bridge of your nose.

“Thanks,” you whispered, a tiny smile crinkling the corners of your eyes. “For the orgasm.”

“Anytime,” Harry laughed, running a hand up your back. “M’glad we’re friends now,” he told you, moving you over to sit next to him.

“Do you do that with all your friends?” you giggled, swatting at his thigh.

“Oh yeah. Welcome to the club,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

“D’you want a shower?” Harry asked eventually, breaking the quiet. You turned back to face him, still dizzy as your eyes tried to focus on his face. “Desperately,” you groaned. “But I’m still a bit wobbly.”

Harry laughed, pushing your messy hair from your face. “M’gonna have one then,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before standing up.

You listened out for the sound of the shower turning on, but Harry’s footsteps had stopped just outside of his living room door. You looked over to him as he stood frozen in the doorway. “What was that asshole’s name?” he asked, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to remember.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“Harry, seriously. I’m naked right now and you want to me to think about my ex?” You rolled your eyes at him.

He shrugged, “can’t remember his name.”

“Jamie. Why are you even talking about him?”

“Because you could’ve had this a long time ago if you hadn’t showed up with him.”

You grabbed one of the cushions, launching it in his direction. He strode over to you, picking you up and flinging you over his shoulder as you shrieked. His hand landed a heavy blow on your ass, raucous laughs blending together in the silence of the night.

Harry set you down in the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind you. “Throwing isn’t playing nice,” he tutted, leaning around the shower screen to turn it on. “So now you have to be punished.”

“Oooh,” you teased. “What’s my punishment, a shower? Or are you going to drown me?”

“Y’have to shower with me. While m’all sexy and naked.”

“That’s not a punishment,” you frowned, watching as he stepped under the water. Harry had always had a decent body, but he’d gotten pretty jacked up since you saw him last. If anything, showering with him was a reward.

“Mm, but you have to keep those hands off me, you horndog,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, following him into the shower. He side stepped past you to let you under the water, trying his hardest to avoid your touch. “I’m not going to molest you,” you told him. “Going to have to touch once or twice since we’re in a tiny box.”

“Fine. Just no feeling me up,” he shrugged, mockingly shielding his cock from you.

“Was it worth it?” you asked Harry as you stepped away from the water, passing the soap to him. “Was what worth it?”

“All the fighting, all your jealousy,” you poked your tongue out at him. “Now you’ve finally got in my pants, was it worth it?”

Harry stepped up behind you, his warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. “How am I supposed to answer that, sweet girl?” he drawled, pulling you around to face him.

You stepped back, pressing yourself into the cold tiles. Harry stayed close to you, his wandering hands finding a home on your hips. “Can’t say it was the easiest chase, can’t say I really enjoyed it,” his fingertips were trailing up your body again, his thumb pushing past your parted lips. His face hardened at the sight, imagining something other than his digits between your pout. “Would do it all again though.”

You bit down on his thumb, grinning as he pulled it from between your lips with a yelp. “You don’t have to fight me for three years just to sleep with me Harry. Could always just ask,” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Is that right?”

You nodded, watching as his eyes moved over your face. “Or get down on your knees and beg me. Either works,” you shrugged. He chuckled, shaking his head at you.

Harry stayed silent as he lathered up the soap between his palms, hungry eyes fixed on you. “Turn around,” he finally told you, putting the beige bar back in the shower tray. He pulled you back into him, his length solid against your ass. His wandering hands finally put themselves to use, rubbing the soap across your body. He paused at your sternum before one hand wrapped around your throat, the other cupping the curve of your breast. Your breath caught, a tiny moan echoing around your mouth as he squeezed lightly, his cock twitching against your skin.

He took his hand from your breast, reaching between your bodies to push his cock between the tops of your thighs. His tip brushed your sensitive clit, your teeth clenching as electricity surged through you. “Can I please fuck your pretty little cunt?” Harry growled, using his free hand to wash the soap from your body. He was throbbing at your core, his cock likely painfully hard by now. “Please, Harry,” you whimpered.

He grunted at your neck, pushing your upper body forwards until his cock lined up with your entrance. He was nudging into you, your pussy dripping and ready to welcome his girth. You’d never needed more like this before, though you’d never felt as good as Harry had made you feel. He released his hold on your throat, one hand lowering to circle your clit as the other splayed across your lower belly, his fingertips digging into the plushy skin.

Your hips rut into his hand, a cry tumbling from your lips as the quick movement forced his girth into your tightness. Your already shaky legs could’ve buckled right there, your body barely able to hold itself up around Harry’s cock splitting you wide open. It took Harry by surprise too, a shaky moan echoing off the walls as he bottomed out inside of you, the extra lubrication from the water pushing him deep into your core. “Fucking hell,” he groaned, stilling as he caught his breath. “Y’okay?”

You moved a hand down to hold onto his wrist, silenced yet again by his cock. “More,” you whined, pussy throbbing as he started to fuck into you hard. You’d skipped the slow, figuring each other out sex. It was as if you already knew what the other needed. Harry was fucking you, his thick red tip tearing you apart as you both raced for another orgasm, each thrust sending you closer to Heaven. The steam and the sounds of the water pounding the shower floor clouds your mind, unable to feel anything except the fullness Harry’s cock gave you.

You were getting close, the burn in your core spreading down the tops of your thighs, before Harry suddenly pulled out. Just as you were about to question him, Harry spun you around. “Want to see your face when you cum f’me,” he panted, sliding one arm under you to lift you against the tiled wall. He slipped back into you with ease, the new angle forcing his cock into places you’d never even known you could feel so much pleasure in.

Your hand tugged at his wrist, pulling his fingers back up to your neck. Harry let out a dry chuckle, his fingers wrapping back around your throat with ease as he slammed into you.

He was a fucking vision. His wet curls hanging down into his eyes, the shine of the water on his tattooed body. Just the sight of him staring at you with those hungry eyes was enough to have you gasping and panting. “Harry, I’m-” you started, a loud moan cutting you off.

He picked up his pace, hips snapping into yours with the deafening slap of skin on skin. “Not yet,” Harry grunted. “Gonna cum w’me.”

Your walls were already tightening around his shaft, hips bucking into him uncontrollably. You bit down hard on your lower lip, nails digging half-moon shapes into the thick muscle of his shoulders. “I can’t,” you whimpered, throwing your head down onto him. “You can, and you will,” he told you, removing his hand from your throat and instead using it to pull your chin up to meet his eye.

You nodded, face contorting as you tried desperately to ignore the fire coursing through you. “Please, Harry,” you whined. Your walls were clamped around his girth, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer. “Come,” he commanded, wrapping his free arm under you as his legs started to shake. You howled as you finally let go, the stars in your vision exploding like fireworks. The tiny shower cubicle was suddenly full of carnal moans and cries, Harry’s lips spitting out your name over and over and over again as he shot ribbons of white-hot come into you.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, before Harry slowly let you down onto the floor. He held you up as your legs shook, a light hand brushing over the finger marks left on your throat.

“Are you still on birth control?”

“No. Should I not be holding my legs up right about now?” you asked, watching as his eyes went wide.

Harry pulled his arm from under you, ready to let you collapse on the floor in his panic. He screwed his face up tight, a quiet “fuck, fuck, fuck,” mumbled under his breath.

“Relax, I am. Sorry.” you told him, a tiny smirk playing on your lips. He reached out and pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as you yelped and smacked his hand away. “Serves you right, bastard.”

He re-washed between your legs quickly, a gentle hand washing away the remains of your juices pooled between your thighs. “Better?” he asked, reaching behind you to turn the water off. “Mhm, just need a good sleep now,” you told Harry. “Oh yes, need to go to bed and think about the beautiful friendship we’ve ruined,” he smirked, handing you a towel.

You dried yourself off before following him to the bedroom, pulling on the clean t-shirt Harry handed you. He was humming a silly tune as he ruffled his hair in the mirror, watching your reflection expectedly. “Used to annoy you when I hummed,” he said, climbing onto the bed to join you.

“Still annoys me plenty,” you told him, pulling the duvet over your legs as you settled back into the pillows. “Just too fucked out to care right now.”

part two ??

₊ ⊹ ₊ ✧ ・ 🍒・✧₊ ⊹ ₊

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz @cicicavill7 @drewsephrry @tswiftsgf @ashleighsss @bikestyles @he6rtshaker @prettygurl-2009 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @teammom4 @chesthairrry @golden-hoax @lilfreakjez @swag13r @cursingatdaylight @s-h-e-l-b-e-e

[seraphdreams]

DREAMIN' — underground racing miniseries.

“being a pretty flag girl is more than waving around banners and wearing cute skirts.”

WARNINGS. this series contains an ungodly amount of smut. reader discretion is advised. topics explored are: gangbanging, drugs, gang activities, semi-dark content, weapons, dub/noncon. each fic will be tagged with its own warnings. 18+ only.

NOTE. finally putting out this series that i’ve been thinking about for a while now. i hope you all enjoy it. each fic is inspired by a song so listen to them!

— STARTING LINE UP.

PART I — NO PHOTOS.

SHIBUYA CITY CHAMPION, BAJI KEISUKE GOES HEAD TO HEAD WITH KAZUTORA HANEMIYA.

PART II — BLINDING LIGHTS.

BRAHMAN’S PRINCESS RACES AGAINST BONTEN’S MASTERMIND, MANJIROU SANO.

PART III — P POWER.

DRAKEN V. HANMA SHUJI.

PART IV — TASTE.

IZANA KUROKAWA FLIES ALL THE WAY FROM MANILA TO RACE AGAINST BEST FRIEND, KAKUCHO HITTO!

PART V — TO BE ANNOUNCED.

Bonten had somewhat of a ritual. It wasn’t anything too crazy like pentagrams or summoning the dead relatives of their victims, but something that made them, them. It was the driving force of all their operations, the sole source that kept the organization afloat. When things went awry they knew they could always count on this one thing, something minor yet major.

Money.

Money granted them connections to criminal organizations around the world. Allies established, and enemies gained. The issue here was that Bonten was bored. All the money in the world couldn’t snatch them from their odd day to day realities of being glorified hitmen, they needed excitement. Something new.

“Any ideas?” All 8 of the men sat around the large lacquered oak table with a particular noble at the forefront. He wore a black suit with a white tie that complimented the strands atop his head. His gaze was empty, as if the light had died out ages ago. There’s two standing beside him, one with a blond skunk strip and slick back hair, the other with the same style except it was platinum all around and a short beard adorned the lower half of his face.

If you didn’t know them, you’d steer clear—They looked intimidating, terrifying almost. You knew Bonten too well though; under all that hardened criminalism were just regular salarymen.

You stood next to where Koko sat. A snarky young man with low patience. It’s hard for you to get under his skin like the others do, and though he’d never admit it, he did have a thing for his little assistant. “We already do so much, I doubt taking on other projects would benefit us financially.” Koko retorts to Mikey’s query. His hands are folded under his chin, propping his head up as if he was bored of the conversation that only lasted two minutes so far.

“Look at you only thinkin’ ‘bout a quick buck. Ya never change, do ya?” It was Sanzu who spoke. Eccentric as he is, when Mikey was in the room he was loyal like a dog. He was one of the many variables that contributed to Kokonoi’s premature graying. Never have they ever gotten along.

“It’s not always about profit. We could expand territory and utilize it for something bigger like weapon trade, or women.” The eldest Haitani spoke. You favored something about him, possibly the eyes or his charismatic nature. He was a caring soul as well, he put his brother above his own life whether Rindou liked it or not. “Bouncing off Ran’s idea, what about Okinawa?” Kakucho uttered.

Usually you tuned out business talk, it wasn’t important to your job. All you were paid to do was look pretty and occasionally pass out paperwork, but the topic at hand piqued your interest. Hitto continues, “We own land in Okinawa, we could build another headquarters there, a casino maybe?”

It seemed as though Manjiro finally took his children into consideration, nodding along with the conversation. “A casino is for idiots, let’s do underground racing.” Sanzu adds. There’s silence and judgmental stares before Mikey finally allows himself to speak once more. “I like it.”

“You can’t be serious, Boss?” Takeomi asks from his spot behind. “How can we even—”

It’s Hajime who interjects this time, the wheels seemingly turning in his head. “If we combine both Hitto and his idea, we could host bets and call in racers. I’m thinking motorcycles over cars. We can’t risk importing illegal vehicles overseas.”

That was just it. The very proposal that’ll put words to action. With a seance of agreeances, Mikey turns to Rindou for finalization. “Make it happen, Haitani.” Rin nods before taking a quick glance at you and back to his leader. “A flag girl’ll be nice too, preferably a hot bimbo.”

You were too fixated on checking your fresh manicure to feel the stares of all the men burning into your frame. The clearing of Kakucho’s throat pulls you from your focus and you finally make the realization. “Hm?”

Mikey tunes his attention back to Rindou, the one notorious for his connections with about any and everyone. “Call up your best racers and fly them to Okinawa. Set up a hotel and headquarters while you’re at it. Let’s take a little business trip.”

With the meeting adjourned, the plan sets in motion.

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design Automotive A NEW STYLE OF CITY DRIVING Renault Twizy ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 026 - Jan 05, 2023

[waynefamilyreactions]

New to Gotham? A useful friendly guide for the newbies at Gotham.

There's never a boring day in Gotham City.

The best view of the city is from the Wayne Enterprises rooftop. Entrance is for free during the weekend.

Came to Gotham as a tourist? First things first: why?

Red-lights and traffic rules are more of a suggestion.

If you're not from Gotham, and unless you have very good reflexes, avoid driving in the city and a very likely trip to the ER.

On the bright side, chances of bumping into the Waynes at the ER are high.

Sign our Changeorg petition for the making of 'Keeping up with the Waynes'. Don't question it, just sign it.

In Gotham, the 'It' movie (2017) is rated as A+ and classified as an educational documentary.

Although sort of infamous, and for some reason considered a Gotham attraction, 'Crime Alley' is literally an Alley of Crime. It should go without saying that visiting is NOT advised.

Metropolis might be safer and sunnier, but we got style.

Always look both ways before crossing a street even if its a One-Way street.

If still in school, don't make fun of the smart kids in your class, they are the most likely to answer a Riddler's Riddle and save you all.

Don't be surprised if your therapist turns out to be one of the Gotham's most wanted.

Improved universal antidote formula for laughing-gas and poison-ivy's pheromones (previous to august of this year) can be acquired for free at any Gotham Hospital.

Best coffee shop is the family-owned business on the corner of the ninth avenue at Old Gotham District. Rated as top 1 by Red-Robin and also positively reviewed by Wayne member Tim Drake.

Fan of art and animal-lover? There are a couple of handmade paintings by Damian Wayne that could be acquired at Gotham's Gallery. All earnings go to Gotham's animal rescue centers.

Most of the famous Gotham criminals are all professionals despite their funny names, do not underestimate them.

Think you're tough? Think again.

Have fun and enjoy your time in Gotham. It's kinda nice once you get used to it.

[funkyplantguy]

grian gets saved by hotguy and then pines over him <3

so this "au" (if you can even call it that when it exists exclusively in my brain and now in this ask) is mostly crack and comes from me joking around a couple days ago with some friends so...don't take it too seriously. that being said...

-

you have (3) new comments! view now?

click.

areeongreenday: hey! so this is insane.

click.

h0tguysnumber0n3fan: i guess i kind of understand where you're coming from with this - scar goodman and hotguy do share a similar sense of humor, and i sort of see what you're saying at 47:03 when you compared their voices (more specifically, the inflection they use on specific words) but...i guess i'm having a hard time imagining scar as a superhero. don't get me wrong - he's plenty cool, but...didn't he say that he's a full-time content creator now? i don't know that he'd really have the time to record, edit, and post videos on top of saving the city on a near-daily basis. interesting theory, though! admire the dedication.

click.

scargoodman: ;)

and there it was, taunting him - that damn winky face, yet again, commented nearly instantaneously each time grian uploaded a new video about the man itself. scar goodman - known to many as the man who had risen to sudden fame in the video essayist community with his charming good looks and boisterous personality. scar goodman, whom grian suspected was secretly none other than the city's beloved superhero. after all, they'd both made their debuts within a week of each other and shared not only a similar path of success but a similar sense of humor, a similar speaking style, a similar body type, a similar laugh...sure, there were things that didn't quite line up, but...for the most part, they appeared to be the exact same person.

okay - maybe grian was a little obsessed. but what was he supposed to do, not point out the obvious?

what made matters worse was that nobody seemed to believe him. no matter how many videos he posted, no matter how much proof he gave...nobody was willing to hear him out.

nobody except scar goodman himself, who seemed intent to drive him absolutely insane.

grian grumbled something to himself, pocketing his phone and continuing down the long, narrow sidewalk to his apartment complex. he'd lost track of time at work yet again, and as a result, the sun had long set. this wasn't unusual for him - he often opted to remain late in the office to "finish up a few things" (ie take advantage of the functional wifi his workplace offered instead of trying to upload videos on his crummy home network), so he was...fairly comfortable tracing the path back to his apartment in the dark of night. the street lights in this part of town didn't work exceptionally well, but with the familiarity of it all and the dull light of the moon, grian typically fared well enough.

tonight, however...well, call him paranoid, but...something felt...off. something about the way all the buildings around him were dark, indicating that their inhabitants were either asleep or out (and entirely unreachable if grian were to call for help). something about the absence of the various stray cats that he often crossed paths with. something about how the complete and utter silence made his ears ring.

"aw, what's this? a cute guy? well, pretty boy, you've just entered the wrong part of town at the wrong time. unfortunately, loose lips sink ships, or...uh...however the saying goes, so...sorry, i can't let you leave this visit alive."

before grian could even register the words being spoken (where were they even coming from?? above him? below him? behind him? everywhere, all at once?), he felt hands gripping the back of his shirt. in another moment, he was on the ground, his breath clawing its way out of his chest. above him stood a figure, shrouded in darkness and the billowing, starry cape draped across their shoulders. in their hands was something glinting, something sharp, something deadly -- something that grian's frazzled, spinning mind was unable to put a name to. or maybe it refused to - refused to name the tool that would be his doom. maybe it was better that way, he mused idly, as the figure raised it high above their head. maybe it was best to not know.

"hey! there you are - what did i say about running off?"

and just as quickly as he'd accepted his death, the threat of it was gone, vanquished by the appearance of the tall, costumed man on the rooftop adjacent. grian felt his breath return to his chest in one fell swoop, filling his lungs and sending a wave of sensitivity to his throat. he coughed, hard, tears welling helplessly in his eyes, and the newcomer's attention snapped to him in an instant.

"oh - and you've made a friend! how nice. unfortunately, there are no plus ones in prison."

"hotguy," grian's would-be murderer snarled. "i thought i'd lost you."

"nah. i may have gotten lost, sure. but you didn't lose me. there's a difference."

"you'll wish that i'd lost you when i'm through with you."

"oh, that was lame!" the man cried, hopping over the low rooftop wall and landing neatly on the ground below (how he did it, even grian wasn't sure. by all intents and purposes, his legs shouldn't have that level of shock absorption, even if he had been fed some chemical cocktail by a mad scientist at a young age as he boasted). "listen - we've got to get you a better catchphrase."

hotguy strode forward, his eyes glinting behind his tinted visor. he glanced to grian out of the corner of his eye, then back to the villain - then back to grian again, his mouth going slack in surprise. grian met his gaze - took in his appearance - and let out a bark of laughter, one not missed by either scar goodman or the cloaked figure in front of him. scar returned his laughter, throwing his head back and planting his hands firmly on his hips.

"well, what a coincidence," he giggled, after a moment. "my new catchphrase just so happens to be "subscribe to my youtube channel."

"what?" their third demanded, glancing between the two. "what are you talking about?"

"oh my god. there's no way. there's no way. how - how am i the only one who knows? how am i the only one who suspects?? it's obvious - it's so obvious."

"what's obvious?"

"i know, right? i make it as obvious as possible, and still...still, nobody puts two and two together. well...nobody except for you, apparently. i guess that you're just...special."

"why don't you just come out and say it?" grian mused, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the sputtering from their newly acquired third wheel. "i feel like if you said it - either as scar goodman or hotguy - people would have to believe it, no?"

a strange look came over hotguy's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

"ah...i don't think that would change anything. plus, i have this thing with this cute guy where he tries to tell everyone my identity and i egg him on to get him to make more silly videos. i would hate to give that up."

he winked, and grian felt warmth climb his cheeks. gone was the fear, gone was the panic, gone was the darkness and the creeping, crawling sense of unease - instead, there was only curiosity, burning brightly in his chest. he wanted to talk to scar - hotguy - for hours, wanted to pull the object of his obsession apart to see what made him tick, then put him back together again, just to see what would happen. he wanted to get to know who hotguy was underneath the suit - and who scar goodman was with the suit. he'd wanted (he'd wanted for so long) and it felt like maybe...just maybe...he'd get to have.

"hey! what the hell is going on?"

"oh, right," hotguy chuckled, turning his attention to the third member of their party. "sorry - didn't mean to ignore you. here - sit tight, for real this time. the police will be here soon."

"dude, i'm just going to leave again. do you really not have handcuffs or something?"

"who needs handcuffs when you have a cub to design fancy gadgets for you?"

"a...a what?" the figure asked, then yelped, startled, as something exploded out of the cuff on hotguy's wrist. a net, affixing itself neatly to their body, wrapping them up in a cocoon of their own folly. grian stared at it, humming in approval.

"nice."

"thank you! it's new."

"i know."

"i bet you do," scar responded, and grian flushed further at the teasing edge his tone took on. "i bet you know almost everything about me, at this point. obsessed, much?"

"i could say the same," grian huffed back, pulling himself to his feet and brushing off his jeans (there was a rip in one leg, now, he noticed with a frown). "you recognized me, like, immediately. it's pretty dark out, too - sounds like you're the one obsessed."

"what can i say - you're pretty and smart. i happen to like my men pretty and smart."

grian sputtered incoherently in response, all confidence gone out the window. oh god - he was even more charismatic in person, even in costume. and god, was the costume more attractive in person, as well - baggy cargo pants and a tight, fitted top that exposed his tanned midriff. not the most tactical, sure - but damn was it hot.

"you can't say that," he moaned, covering his reddened cheeks with his hands. "oh my god. i hate you. i've known you for five minutes and i already hate you."

"sure you do," scar responded, grinning. "i - oh, hold on."

he raised his hand and tapped the earpiece affixed to the side of his head, concentrating. after a moment, he sighed - and for just a second, grian thought that his shoulders drooped in exhaustion. as quickly as they sagged, however, scar was straightening, turning back to grian with an easy smile.

"sorry, handsome, duty calls. are you alright to get back home on your own? i doubt this guy will be giving you any more trouble. those nets are pretty sturdy."

"wait!" grian sputtered, his heart hammering painfully in his chest (no, no, he couldn't let scar slip through his fingers, not now, not when he was finally so close). "don't go - i...can i see you again?"

scar's smile wobbled around the edges, and any panic grian felt was replaced with guilty - heavy and suffocating (though he wasn't sure why)

"ah...isn't it more fun, this way? don't you like the chase? isn't that exhilaration enough for your pretty little head?"

"i mean...it's a fun hobby, yeah, but -,"

"then we'll stick to the status quo. after all, i'd hate to rob you of your favorite hobby. goodnight, grian. can't wait for your next video."

and with a wink, he was gone, disappearing back into the shadows so quickly grian could have sworn he was made of them. and grian...well. he had an apartment to get home to, a cat to feed...and a chase to continue. and maybe, someday, if he was fast enough...he'd catch up.

[diazsdimples]

I am just as devastated as the next person about Bobby and Athena’s house being burned down but think about the possibilities! Walk with me here. Bobby spending 90% of his time on Real Estate websites when he’s not plotting how to get the 118 back from Gerrard. Athena noticing that his searches get gradually further away from metropolitan LA until one day, Bobby very happily shoves the laptop in front of her face and there’s a listing for a very cute looking ranch-style property. “And it’s only an hours drive on the freeway, Athena!” Athena’s initially resistant because since when has Bobby ever expressed interest in living on a ranch and also she is a city girl through and through, but Bobby finally convinces her to come view the property with him and fuck, it’s actually kinda perfect. It’s in their price range, with a lovely big house that’s got 4 bedrooms (one for them, one for Harry, one for May, and a guest room/ office), the kitchen is massive and rustic and Bobby’s like a kid in a candy shop the whole time, just bouncing around this place like an energised toddler (“it has a walk in pantry, Athena!”) and Athena starts unconsciously planning the furniture layout and some renovations. And then, and then, Bobby takes her outside and the back yard is absolutely gorgeous; there’s a patio that’s got a barbecue, a stone pizza oven, a fire pit (one outside this time), there’s so much room and space and Athena can feel herself gradually falling in love. And it’s got TWO WHOLE PADDOCKS! The opportunities are endless! They go home and she tries to act indifferent but Bobby finds her looking at the listing again and going through their finances, scoping out the local area, checking her commute time into work. They talk about it a couple more times, during which Bobby mentions the fact that he’s always wanted to own horses and he misses having chickens like he did when he was little in Minnesota, and honestly it’s her husband’s insistence and pure joy that ends up convincing her. She’s got one condition though: she gets a bunny rabbit. It’s a non-negotiable. If Bobby wants the house, Athena gets a rabbit. Bobby agrees, so they end up putting in a tentative offer, slightly under what they think it could go for, but miracle upon miracles, it gets accepted!! They finally tell the 118 (who respond with a variety of reactions, most of which being “you bought a what??”) and a few weekends later, they’re moving in their few worldly possessions, as well as setting up all the furniture Bobby impulsively ordered one night when Buck was over and pulled up a few furniture stores. Athena starts building a rabbit hutch, which turns into something more like a rabbit castle cause she’ll only have the best for her baby, and she gets her rabbit, who she names Hercules. He spends a fair chunk of time inside, on her lap as she rubs his ears. Bobby ends up buying a whole flock of hens, and a rooster that he names Maurice (and he’s never seen Tommy back up quite as quickly as he did when Buck showed him the chickens with a shit eating grin on his face). Eddie and Buck help to build a massive vegetable garden which Bobby fills with herbs and vegetables and flowers. He wants a dog, but Athena won’t allow it cause 1. She’s allergic and 2. Hercules doesn’t like dogs apparently. So he gets two horses instead, a mare and a gentle old gelding and spends his days off riding the horses (he does hire someone to care for the horses when he can’t) and tending to his garden and cooking and he’s never felt quite so happy in his life. A lot of plaid begins to work it’s way into his wardrobe and when he gets the horses, Eddie brings him back a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson from Texas, which he initially doesn’t wear but then Athena says he looks hot in them so he brings them out when he’s riding the horses. And no one minds the long drive to their new place cause it’s so perfect, they have the best cookout there and it’s clear that Athena and Bobby are the happiest they’ve been in years.

[coff33andb00ks]

İdk i just got hit with this shitty idea 😭😭 drabble list thingy 5 40 60 64 and 70. BUT WITH ACADEMIC RIVAL OSCAR? IDK ITS KINDA STUPİD BUT STİLL 😭😭

driver + number = drabble <3

warning: author knows nothing about academia 😳

"Idiots, they're all idiots."

You glanced up at the sound of his voice, perplexed. Then, realizing he couldn't possibly be talking to you, you turned back to your work. You'd come here in the hopes that you'd be able to finish your paper without the distractions in your dorm, and so far–

Thud.

The heavy backpack landed on the tabletop with much more force than necessary and you glared at its owner, who - horrifically - was pulling out the chair across from you. As usual he was wearing his stupid burgundy shirt under his stupid black hoodie, and his hair was falling into his eyes with that stupid little swoop.

The only thing stupid about Oscar Piastri was his lack of style.

"You don't mind do you?" he asked, already settling into the chair with his coffee.

"I'm annoyed, to put it mildly," you muttered, staring at the backpack crushing the corner of your pencil pouch.

"Ah well, the feeling's mutual." He pulled his backpack towards him and threw down a copy of the local newspaper. Odd, that he actually read a physical newspaper instead of getting his news online like everyone else born after 1985.

You carefully maneuvered your pencil pouch closer to yourself and tried to focus on your paper. Intent to ignore him, you managed to type out two whole sentences before he snapped open the newspaper. Darting your eyes towards him, you watched the morning sunlight dance over the angle of his jaw.

Too bad he was such an insufferable know it all. Half the students that you knew from the classes you shared with him called him Hermes Granger behind his back, he was that bad. Always had the correct answers in lecture. Always top marks. Always, always, always, while you were just behind him.

Except the one time, but he'd been in hospital due to his roommate Lando accidentally tripping him and fracturing his rib, so that didn't really count.

"Did you hear about this?" he asked suddenly, thrusting the newspaper in your direction.

You looked from the paper to him, half expecting him to pull it away before you could take it. He didn't though, and you turned it so you could read the small headline.

No Evidence of Foul Play in Missing Money

Frowning, you read the small blurb about thousands of dollars that had seemingly vanished from a local charity. "How can there be no foul play?" you asked after reading it through twice. "It was there one day and gone the next."

Oscar nodded. "Exactly. And you know who's on the board, right?"

"Dude, I barely know my roommate's name most days..."

"Yeah I reckon you've got too many classes–"

You narrowed your eyes at that, missing half of the rest of what he said.

"–the mayor."

You snorted on a laugh. "Are you insinuating the mayor stole the money?"

He wasn't laughing. Or smiling. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd never seen Oscar smile. Well, that pained half smile when Lando dragged him to a party, but otherwise...

"You can't be serious," you said. "He's the mayor. He's got plenty of money."

"Does he?"

Rolling your eyes, you slid your laptop close and tried to focus on your work again. "Didn't have you down as a conspiracy theorist."

"It's not a conspiracy theory though?"

"The mayor, who lives in a mansion and drives a Ferrari, stealing ten thousand dollars from a charity?"

"People in power have stolen less. He's very good at hiding secrets. Like his brother's company being behind the factory buyout last year? The government doesn't want you to know this, but every one of them are crooked."

"What do they put in your coffee?" you asked with a roll of your eyes. "Do you get a tinfoil hat to go with it?"

He scoffed. "I thought you were smart."

That surprised you. You didn't think Oscar thought about you at all. "So what do you suggest, Oscar? We storm city hall and demand the mayor give the money back?"

He pursed his lips and dipped his head to one side as though to indicate the idea had merit. "Or we could sneak in after hours and poke around."

"Break into the mayor's office," you clarified.

He nodded. "Tonight after dinner?"

"Set off alarms, get arrested, and go to jail."

He winced. "Yeah, maybe not our brightest idea."

"Excuse me, did you–"

"But we can still do dinner, yeah?"

"Idiots. They are all idiots." / "I'm annoyed, to say it mildly." / "The feeling is mutual." / "The government doesn't want you to know about this." / "Not our brightest idea."

[gguk-n]

Lights, Camera, Stroll (Lance Stroll x Youtuber!Reader)

All the pictures are from Pinterest or Nessa Barrett.

bloggingmylife

Liked by lance_stroll and 234,768 others

bloggingmylife Decided to have a chill day at home!! New video up!!

user5 I love your vlogging style♥️♥️ user6 teach me your ways🥹🥹 user7 is it just me or did I hear a guy in the background?!🤔🤔 user8 why is Lance Stroll in the likes?? Since when did they follow each other??🤔😣

user2 that one user on twitter did say you were dating user3 so happy for you!! can't wait to see him in your videos

bloggingmylife

Liked by lance_stroll, astonmartinf1 and 1,869,953 others tagged lance_stroll

bloggingmylife Got invited to the Canadian GP!! Had so much fun!! Love you Lancey!!😘😘

user1 OMG!! Is she dating Lance Stroll???😭😭 user4 f1 wag🥹🫣😭 user5 so pretty in green💚💚 lance_stroll love you too baby♥️♥️Liked by Author astonmartinf1 Please come back Y/N😭😭 bloggingmylife astonmartinf1 I'll be back as much as you want admin😘😘

lance_stroll

Liked by bloggingmylife, astonmartinf1 and 2,768,980 others tagged bloggingmylife

lance_stroll Home🇨🇦

user6 Lover boy Lance was not on my 2024 bingo😳😳 user7 they are so cute😚😚 user8 he called her his home🥹🥹 astonmartinf1 good weekend👍 bloggingmylife I wish you didn't travel so much😤😤 lance_stroll bloggingmylife what's stopping you from following me around?🫢🫢 bloggingmylife lance_stroll actually you are right🙄🙄.

Y/N- Hi guys!! Y/N here. Today I am joined by my lovely boyfriend!! Lance- Hi Y/N's subscribers Y/N- We're playing Most Likely too today!! Shall we start?? Lance- Sure, babe Y/N- Who is most likely to plan a spontaneous trip? Lance- *points to himself* she stress's too much and needs days to plan stuff out. Y/N- hey!! I just like being in control of things *pouts* (Lance pecks her lips.) Y/N- Who is most likely to forget important dates like anniversaries or birthdays? Lance Lance- when did I do that?? Y/N- my birthday, this year. Lance- in my defence it was on a Monday after the race *raises hands up to surrender* Y/N- fine, I'll cut you some slack. Who is most likely to win a cooking competition? Lance- Y/N. She cooks the most delicious food. My trainer hates her. Y/N- I try to make healthy and tasty food. I call bs on your trainer. He just hates not being able to eat my cooking. *Lance laughs* Y/N- Who is most likely to start a new hobby or interest? Lance- Y/N!! We have so many of her hobbies lying around, half done. Y/N- Listen, they seem like good ideas at 3 in the morning and I order them on Amazon. Lance- I love your neurodivergent self!! Y/N- Who is most likely to handle a surprise party for the other? Lance- Me. Y/N- Who is most likely to stay up all night binge-watching a new series? Lance- Y/N, she spent the last night binge watching Lady Jane. Y/N- The show is great and I would like to tell the audience; he watched it too!! Who is most likely to initiate a major life change, like moving to a new city? Me, since I literally move for you. *pecks Lance on the lips* Lance- Thank you, I love having you home. Now you can start travelling with me too. Y/N- Who is most likely to take on a new fitness challenge or goal? Lance- me. She barely goes to the gym. Y/N- don't expose me like this!!! Who is most likely to surprise the other with a thoughtful gift? Lance- Y/N. I have so many gifts and for the randomest occasions. Y/N- You get me flowers all the time. I have to return the favour. Who is most likely to get lost while driving to a familiar place? Lance- She got lost in her home city *shakes his head* Y/N- I'm bad with navigation. Lance- That's why I drive you around, I'm scared I'll lose you. Y/N- Aww, Lancey!! I love you Lance- I love you too!! Y/N- That's it for today!! Hope you guys had fun. I had a lot of fun. *the video ends with both of them kissing*