#what about his favourite brand of suits? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anika-ann · 2 months ago

Text

Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #restless hearts #anika ann #anika writes

350 notes · View notes

guardarecheluna · 11 months ago

Text

Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on. (CEO!H)

Words; 11.6K (look at me gooooo!)

Warnings: Fluff city, angst, parent death, smut (oral; fem rec. praise, penetrating sex.)

Summary: Harry has a brand-new employee at Pleasing. An employee that he fell in love with the minute he saw her, that he constantly had to hide his emotions from, because, well, he was the boss.

A/N: My first CEO!Harry one shot!! Eeeek I’m so excited for you to read this one, I’ve worked really hard on it, and I’ve always wanted to write about CEO Harry. I love him already; I hope you do too! If you read, please let me know what your favourite part was or talk to me here. I’m always open for conversations <3 (ALSO! This is my first time writing any smut, so be kind please) Take care and go easy on yourself this week. Elle x

March 2018

Harry is a good boss. Really, he is. He always stands up for his staff members, approving vacation days without much trouble and brought in pastries to the creative meetings.

He would maybe even be described as a happy, joyfull person, kind and engaged in what his staff was creating and how they were doing. And he was, but it was mostly a façade.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t feel joy around his colleagues, or that he was faking it to gain something else – Harry was just miserable in his personal life.

You would think it is impossible to be sad and to feel hopeless when you have a multi-million-pound company at the ripe age of 34, the cars, the women, the parties and all the vacation days he could ever want. But Harry wasn’t that shallow, he never had been. He wanted connection. Craved and yearned for a soulful connection with someone else. A lover, a soulmate to be his own, and not just a one-night stand or a drunken philosophical debate with whoever was available.

Harry sat in his penthouse suite, in the lounge. The penthouse was eerily quiet, apart from a few raindrops smattering against the glass of the windows. The sky looked as dreary and sad as he felt on the inside, his chest tightening and a furrow between his brows as the thought about her. There wasn’t a her yet, but when Harry sat there on his sofa, tie loose around his neck and clammy hands resting on his thighs, he couldn’t help but imagine her there with him.

He wasn’t going to cry though, have a breakdown or feel sorry for himself; it didn’t do him any good, even if it was all he needed right now. He almost called his mom, ready to confess his loneliness, his longing, empty, fragile heart, in hopes that his mothers love could glue at least a few pieces back together.

There was no use, though. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the feeling of loneliness, his head leaning back over the arm of the couch.

A sudden phonecall woke him up from this circle of evil he found himself in. It was Niall, his COO, and best friend, the co-founder of Pleasing. Harry took a deep breath, readying himself for answering Niall’s phone call. It was past 8pm on Wednesday, if anything he wanted to go have a drink at a shitty bar somewhere and drag on about his ex-girlfriend. Harry couldn’t have that tonight.

Harry pressed answer and put on his façade, like he always did when there was possible business to oversee. “Hey, Niall.” Harry said, putting on his calmest, most stable voice. “Heeeeey there H! Sorry to bother you at this hour, I may have done something stupid, but I want you to hear me out before you get pissed, you hear me?” Niall enthused over the phone. Harry sighed, falling back on the sofa with the phone to his ear. This could be anything, it could be that he sold his part of the company to the devil himself or that someone put roses instead of tulips at the entrance of the building. “What did you do, Niall?” Harry let out, already feeling defeated with how his evening was going. His hand over his forehead, bracing himself for what was about to come out of Niall’s mouth. “It could be worse, Styles, I’ve done worse than this. So, you know how we were going over the applications for the new senior creative for cosmetics and design earlier?” Niall led on. “Yes.” Harry replied shortly. “Well, a very interesting application just got through a few hours late and I’ve already called her and set up an interview for tomorrow afternoon. Her resume looks incredible, she’s just leaving her post at Rare beauty and has previously worked as a creative at Milk makeup. She does marketing, press, design and has so many other skills, I just couldn’t put down her application without giving her a chance. If she’s anything like what’s mentioned in her resume she’ll-“Niall rambled on, Harry interrupting him, annoyance filling his head, although Niall didn’t deserve the blow of it. “Niall. We have a full day of interviews tomorrow, and you just booked another one until late. We don’t have time for this, I’m sure someone we’re interviewing can do all those tasks just as well.” Harry just wasn’t feeling it, at all. He didn’t care if Niall had just found the rarest gem in the industry, his workday was over at 5 and not a minute later. With how much brainpower has gone to his depressed mood and anxiety, he couldn’t bear the thought of staying until at least 6:30 on a Thursday. “Harry, I don’t know what to tell you, but I have a feeling about this one. I can stay and do the interview on my own if it bothers you that much. I just want us to give her a chance.” The line got quiet. Niall knew he had messed up not checking with Harry first, but his gut was telling him that this girl might be right for Pleasing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Niall.” Harry plainly said and hung up the phone. Harry threw his phone on the couch, not wanting to even think about how drained he’ll be tomorrow as he went for his evening shower.

The next day dragged on, Harry keeping a big smile on his face for every new applicant that came through the door. There were a few possible hires, definitely, but with the final interview coming up, Harry felt the day wash over him as he waved goodbye to the one applicant they had just finished interviewing.

Their floor was pretty much empty now, just a few staff members hanging around and talking about their day. Harry needed a coffee to be able to finish strong, he didn’t want to leave Niall to do the final interview himself, even if all he wanted right now was to get a takeout and then get straight home. “Do you want anything?” Harry mumbled to Niall as he rose from his seat beside him, making an exit for the door of his office. There was still a few minutes remaining until the last applicant was supposed to be interviewed. Niall didn’t look up as he just said, “No thanks, mate.” And continued reading through the next applicant’s personal letter and information.

Harry walked out into the hall, hearing cheerful laughter down by the offices as he made his way through. His eyes zeroed in on the end of the hallway, the coffee machine calling out his name. “Hi, Sorry, can I just ask you something?” A sweet, nervous sounding voice came from behind him. Harry turned around and was met with what was probably the most stunning woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His breath caught in his throat, cheeks already flushing just by looking at her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Harry realized he had been quiet for a few seconds to long and kicked himself back into gear. “Of course, what can I help you with?” He got out, flashing his sweet smile at her. He got a chance to study her features, her outfit. Her full lips as she smiled, eyes bright and curious as she looked right at him. He felt like he had won the lottery, just by looking at her, his chest was on fire. She was wearing a fun, colourful outfit that was still business casual, a few cartoonish looking enamel pins on her blazer pocket. Creative she was. “I’m sorry to be a bother, I think the receptionist has already left. I have an interview for the senior creative position here and I’m just lost looking for Horan and Styles offices. Do you know where I can find them?” She smiled at him, a hopeful, kind look in her eyes as she awaited his answer. Harry immediately felt disappointment, if she was looking for work at Pleasing, he couldn’t even think about looking at her the way he was right now. Harry reached his hand out. “I’m the Styles you’re looking for, it’s nice to meet you…” He looked at her with a questioning look, not yet having heard her name. “Oh! This couldn’t be more perfect! It’s Y/N Y/L/N.” She bubbled with joy, reaching for his hand and shaking it. “It’s really good to meet you Y/N, you can call me Harry, everyone here does.” He smiled at her; he really couldn’t help it at this point.

“I was going to get some coffee before our meeting, we still have…13 minutes. Do you want anything?” Harry continued, looking down at his wristwatch to catch the time. Her shoulders slumped in relief, maybe partly relaxing because of his kind demeanour and kind offering. “I-yes, coffee sounds like it’s exactly what I need right now. Thank you, Harry.” She said lightly, with a giggle in her voice. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a beautiful sound in all his life, and she had managed to worm her way into his heart and make an impression bigger than the other 5 applicants had made combined. They walked together to the coffee machine, small talking about visions and dreams for the company and why she sent in her resume to work for them. And Harry, Harry was in trouble.

---

Harry was light on his feet as he stepped into the lift at Pleasing HQ this morning, because he was in love. His whole life had transformed in just a matter of months, no longer feeling the lonely, bitter thoughts taking over him at night. He was in his own world of pink rose petals falling from the sky, rosy cheeks and laughter echoing in his head. He felt like he way going crazy, and maybe he was. Y/N had obviously gotten the position as a senior creative. After she left her interview, Harry was just obsessed with her. With what she saw for the company’s future, her laugh and kindness, her witty humour.

Y/N had been working for pleasing now for the last three months, taking it all in stride and charming the whole office with her tactics and energy; Harry had never seen anyone so passionate about their job, so caring about the people around her. She was the perfect puzzle piece.

There was just one issue.

Y/N had no idea about any of this. Or, maybe she could’ve guessed. Niall had to tell him how obviously in love he was with her, and that he had to get his ducks in a line or there would be issues. Dating a co-worker, especially as a boss was frowned upon, however not forbidden.

Harry just couldn’t stop thinking about her, ever. And they were friends, really good friends. Having lunch together, always getting stuck in conversation at their after-work gatherings, and Harry always did an extra round by the offices in the afternoon just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe she saw right through him, but he’s not sure he minded it. He was desperate to be a part of her world at this point, just to have a little piece of her, even if he couldn’t have her in the way he so desperately craved. This was going to have to be enough. It was like Harry had accepted his fate of this unrequited love, but he couldn’t really complain as long as she was still in his life. He didn’t feel sad about it anymore, it wasn’t that heartache he had felt previously, he had accepted that he had found his person, but that he was never going to have her. It was alright, he decided.

Y/N was doing a big pitch today, her first one. She had ben scrambling around for the first three months trying to learn everything about the company, the values, the staff and the consumers to really get an idea of what they were wanting to put out. She had worked hard, stayed some late nights to finish a mood-board or sketch a new design for something.

And Y/N was excited. Nervous for sure, but mostly excited to show everyone her interpretation of what Pleasing could become.

Harry spotted her in their conference room as he entered the floor. A smile on his lips immediately after seeing her setting up some snacks for everyone and trying to get the projector to work. He knocked on the slightly open door. “Morning, there! You need help with anything before we kick off?” Harry offered as he leaned against the doorframe. Y/N hastily turned around from the table she was standing on, trying to fix the cord to the projector that was not doing it’s best work today. She jumped down, straightening out her clothes and sighed. “I think most of it is all set, I just can’t seem to pull down the screen for the projector though, and you seem like a tall enough lad.” Y/N jokingly said to him, eyes scrunching and her little crow’s feet by her eyes showing. Harry loved every detail of her. “Course, love.” Harry replied as he walked over to the front of the room and pulled down the screen, easy as pie. “Thank you, H.” She said, now focused on her laptop screen, and fingers picking nervously at her lips. “You’re going to do incredible; I know it. Don’t have to be nervous, it’s just the staff and you know all of them.” Harry said, catching her nervousness as he’d known her for years. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m a little nervous, but everyone here is so nice, I have trouble believing I’ll be roasted by any of you.” She answered. He noticed that she never replied to his compliment about her being incredible. Sweet girl, Harry thought, she’s too nice and too sceptical of her own ability, she’s absolutely incredible at what she’s doing. Just as he was about to repeat himself, affirming his trust in her, the other staff started to trickle into the room. Harry hadn’t even put away his coat since he got here, he just went straight to Y/N. “Oh shit, give me a minute, yeah? I’m just going to put away my things, I’ll be right back.” Harry excused himself from the room, but not before hearing, “Hurry up, bossman, you’ve got to minutes to business-time!” Y/N shouted after him, earning a giggle from the people in the room. Harry just smiled to himself as he shook his head in adoration before walking over to his office.

She did so good. Of course she did. She had nothing to be nervous about, and she charmed the whole office with her visions and imagination of future products. She had put fourth an idea about more homegoods, candles, pyjamas and blankets. She had even went so far as to research materials, resellers for those materials and always making sure to stay true to the company’s values according to fair trade and labour rights. Her presentation was also funny, It barely felt like a meeting, she was just so naturally comedic, and Harry absolutely adored her. He sat way in the back, leaning back on his chair and twiddled with his shirtsleeve, looking like a lovesick puppy. Her every move and her every word entrancing him and pulling him deeper and deeper into her trenches. Although, he’d happily go down.

Just as Y/N finished, everyone cheered and clapped for her, everyone was proper impressed by her ideas and research, and couldn’t wait to get started with things. Harry stayed in the back, listening to everyone talk and share their ideas, budgets, raw material ideas and colourswatches. Harry was so proud of her. Everyone slowly left the room, congratulating Y/N on her impressive work, giving her hugs and encouraging words. Harry was the last one there. He was wearing a big, dimply smile as he walked up to her. “You have no idea what you just started, did you hear everyone? You’re fucking amazing, Y/N I don’t even know what to say. I’m so, so impressed.” Harry said, the smile never leaving his lips. If he didn’t know better he’d congratulate her with all the kisses she’d want. Y/N was blushing, her cheeks turning rosy as she looked up at him. “Thank you, Harry. I’m so relieved everyone liked it and that you’ve been here to support me, I really couldn’t have done any of this if you weren’t there so I could ask all those stupid questions.” She replied, humble as always. Harry got stuck in her eyes, just nodding to her. “Celebratory lunch? On me?” Harry followed up with, the blush never leaving her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

---

Another 4 months had passed, and Harry fell just fell deeper and deeper into the sticky sweet lovecloud he was constantly in. It was dreary and dark out, the middle of November as Harry made his way into the office, preparing for their regular staff meeting, when he noticed Y/N was nowhere to be found. A pang of worry beat through his chest. Had she called in sick? Maybe she got in an accident on the way here? Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest in worry for his favourite girl; and just like that his phone went off. It was her.

He’s never answered his phone so quickly in his life. “Hey, there, I was beginning to wonder where you were.” Harry said immediately with a smile teasing on his lips, waiting to hear her voice. The line was quiet on the other end, he could hear her breathing and some rustling of something in the background. “Love? You there? Are you alright?” He said, softening his voice for her, the worry back in his chest as he stepped aside from a few other co workers and into his office, closing the door. “Harry…I’m sorry to call so late in the workday, I-i just don’t know what to do, i-.” He heard her crying over the phone, clearly upset, her breathing irregular and voice shaky. “Shhh, it’s okay love, take a deep breath for me, yeah? Tell me what’s happening, are you alright?” Harry was pacing in his office, wanting to demand her to tell her what was wrong, but he kept his voice gentle for her. He felt his pocket for his car keys in case he had to come get her. He would do anything. “It’s my dad, my dad has- he passed away in the night, and th-they don’t know what happened, I just I ca-can’t come in today so, so I was just…can I-I work from home today, is that o-okay?” Harry’s chest was aching as he listened to her tearful voice. Silly girl, working from home when something like this happened. He couldn’t allow it, and all he could think about was seeing her, wrapping her up in his arms to shield her from the pain she was experiencing. “Listen to me, Y/N, everything is going to be alright. I’m so sorry about your loss, I am so, so sorry. You’re not working today, or tomorrow, you’re going to take the week off and go see your family, do you understand?” He tried to be as gentle and clear as possible so her foggy brain could understand his words. “Do you have someone there with you?” Harry continued, biting his nails in worry for the sweet girl he had fallen so hard for. Harry already knew her answer, her family lived a plane ride away and she was pretty new in London, not yet having made a steady base of friends to look after her. She didn’t protest when he said she wasn’t going to work this week. “No-no. I’ve already booked a flight home, but it isn’t until the weeken-nd.” She stuttered through her tears. “Can I come see you? I just want to make sure you’re alright.” He said immediately, taking any chance he could to care for her. “It’s, it’s okay, Harry. You’re busy, and i-I’m a mess anyways. Thank you for l-letting me out of work tho-though, I’ll make it up to y-you.” She said, but he knew her better than this by now. He knew she’d never ask for help, even if it was from a friend, and just the fact that she called him instead of her closest boss, or Niall for that matter, made his cheeks warm, they were friends first, he decided then.

“Don’t worry a second about work right now, I’m never too busy for you, you know that. I’m going to excuse myself from the meeting and I’ll be at yours in 30 minutes, alright?” He said gently, her heavy breathing on the other side. “It’s going to be okay, doll, I’ve got you.” Harry continued as he grabbed his coat from the hanger and fished his keys out of his pocket, not letting go of his phone for a single second. “Thank you, H.” She just said, as they hung up and Harry was sprinting through the office building to get to the meeting he was supposed to attend minutes ago. He peeked his head through the glass door. “Sorry everyone, Niall can I borrow you for just a second? Important.” Their staff was all very kind and gentle people, Niall excused himself as small talk was rolling around in the meeting area. The staff not wanting to intrude on their conversation. “Y/N’s father has passed away, and she needs a friend right now, she’s all alone and her family lives a plane ride away. I just got a call from her, and she needs someone, will you be handling the meetings for today?” Harry said as he buttoned his coat up, barely looking at Niall, cause all he could think about was her, her, her. Niall put on a knowing smile, but not without feeling his chest tighten for one of his favourite colleagues. “Of course, mate, that’s so shit to hear. Be gentle with her and give her a hug from all of us, yeah?” Niall said, looking for eye contact with Harry. They weren’t a super big company, they were around 20 people and everyone knew each other well, including Y/N. Niall thought he’d tell them she wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. “I will be, good luck, I’ll phone you tonight.” Harry said, already halfway to the lift as he harshly pressed the buttons in attempt to get a move on, faster. Niall gave harry a smile and nodded. He had to know exactly what Harry was feeling, he was a shit liar and could see right through him.

Harry sped off to Y/N’s apartment, making no stops and pushing the gas a little extra to get to her as fast as he could. He almost ran up the flight of stairs to her apartment, out of breath as he knocked on her door.

And there she was. Still the most beautiful person he’d ever known, despite the tears staining her face, her messy hair and pyjamas still on. It was like another wave of tears hit her the minute she saw Harry, it was like now that he was here, she was going to be okay. “Hey, doll, I’m so sorry.” Harry said as Y/N crashed into his arms, her body heavy and limp from the crying, panic and absolute bottomless darkness she found herself in. Harry had shivers running down his back, just being able to hold her like this, comfort her. His arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressing to the top of her head as he breathed her in and continued whispering affirming words to her. Without letting go of her, Harry stepped them inside her apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. “Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, love.” He continued, pulling her head out of his chest and tear stained shirt, his thumbs drying her cheeks and looking her in her eyes. “I know it’s difficult right now, but I’m here to help, alright? C’mon, let’s get you settled, yeah?” He continued. She couldn’t have possibly missed his loving gazes and soft language. She couldn’t have possibly missed how he without any doubt took her into his chest to calm her down. She couldn’t have possibly missed how Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest when he held her so close.

Harry took her into her lounge, witnessing a mess of tissues, her open laptop and a now ice-cold cup of tea on the table. Y/N was still burrowed in Harry’s chest, searching for any kind of comfort she could find. In this moment, she didn’t care that he was her boss, that he had hired her months before to be an addition to his very successful team of workers. She knew it was a strange situation to be in, and to be such good friends with your boss, but with her being so new to the London, sha wanted to grab and hold onto the people she had. And Harry was a very special friend to Y/N, she really liked him as a friend, but it was difficult to not harbour feelings for the man, affectionate, kind and clever as he is. She tried her best to keep things as casual as possible between them, but she was stumbling in the dark right now, looking for whatever lifeline she could grab, and Harry showed up. Of course he did.

Harry settled her down in the lounge, now on a mission to do whatever he could to make her feel at least a little bit better. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, kiss her, stroke her wild hair and paint soft circles on her skin with his fingers but he had to draw a line. He couldn’t use this situation to his advantage, this wasn’t about him and his feelings.

Harry knew her well by know, she couldn’t function in a messy environment, so he took the first step, that was deemed appropriate enough, and started cleaning up and cozying up her lounge area. He removed all the tissues, wiped down her table and made her a new steaming hot cup of tea. He lit a candle, and put on some soft, but not too sad music for her in the background. She protested, of course, not wanting to bother him, it was almost embarrassing that he had to take care of her in this way; but for Harry it was an act of pure love. Of course he would do absolutely everything and anything for her, even if it was picking up her snotty tissues.

As he finished, he settled down on the other side of her sofa where she was laid down. Her crying had settled, she didn’t have a single tear left in her eye. At this point he was just staring at the candle in front of her, trying to focus her energy on something else other than the trainwreck that was her current situation. Harry sighed as he looked over at her. “Thank you for being here, Harry.” Y/N mumbled quietly, not letting her eyes drift away from the flame. “You don’t have to thank me; you know I’d do anything for you.” Harry answered her, his warm hand coming to give her a comforting squeeze around her ankle. She just nodded.

There they sat, Harry’s hand still on her ankle, at loss for action or words. “Is there anything I can do, at all, to help you? I know it’s a stupid question, I know there’s physically nothing I can do to make this any better, but if there is anything, please let me help.” Harry said into the still air of the room. A few more tears welled up in her eyes; he was so kind to her. “C-can I have a hug? I know it’s not proper but I coul-” Y/N said quietly, almost ashamed to be asking such a thing from him, but she really needed him right now. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, almost relieved at her words as sat up slightly and opened his arms for her. “C’mere, sweet girl.” Harry let the words slip from his mouth so easily, he couldn’t help but call her those sweet names when she was like this. And Harry often did call her those names, she didn’t seem to mind.

Without another word she turned over on the sofa, crawling her way up into his arms, and letting his scent embrace her and calm her down. His warm chest and comforting strokes to her back. Harry was trying hard to keep his cool with her so close to him, and tried to emit calmness in hopes that she could feel it too. And it wasn’t just a hug, it was more of a cuddle. But in that moment, they both needed it more than anything else.

---

After that day at her apartment, Harry and Y/N had become even closer. Y/N had gone to see her family for the weekend, and Harry had assured her that she could stay longer if she needed to. She was slowly coming out of her hazy mind, thinking more clearly, but she was still barely functioning. Grief is hard. It’s cruel, dark and endless. Y/N’s mind was constantly racing between the final time she saw her dad, their memories, and all the things she had to do that was piling up over the week. Harry was checking in on her constantly, texting, calling, showing up with dinner or helping her with the most simple tasks, that felt huge and impossible in her state of mind.

Y/N was going back to work tomorrow, and although she dreaded the pitying looks and comforting hugs, although she really wanted to get back to her life. Not to forget what had happened with her father, but more to kickstart herself, she knew she didn’t want to lose herself in this grief, so she had to at least try and do something about it.

Harry was taking up a big chunk of her mind as well. As if she wasn’t falling for him before all this, she was now hopelessly lovesick over someone she couldn’t have. She didn’t want it to turn out this way, and she had thought about all possible scenarios for them to maybe, just maybe have a chance together, but was constantly reminded of the one thing that made her heart ache more than anything – he probably didn’t want her. He was just the best human alive, supporting and cheering for his friends, she knew he was like this with all of his friends, he couldn’t possibly not be. She shouldn’t mistake his kindness and generosity for being in love with her.

---

Harry felt like he was going to explode at any given time. They had spent so much time together in the last few weeks, and now that she was coming back to work, full time, he wasn’t sure if he could handle just seeing her without giving her a good cuddle or asking how she’s doing. He knows that as a boss, this is the last thing he should be doing and thinking about, but Harry had never felt like this. It had been months of torture not having her the way he wanted, and he felt completely blinded by the love he felt. Even so far as considering leaving pleasing to Niall just so he could maybe be with her. That was an insane thought though, he was still pretty sure that Y/N didn’t even reciprocate those feelings for him, and he was weighing his options of telling her what he felt or if he was going to take it to his grave. He didn’t want to risk her career, and if they actually got together, he wasn’t sure how the company would take it. HR would hate it, even though it wasn’t forbidden to date a coworker.

This was what his mind was racing on and on about, and he felt like he was going to accidentally expose himself soon if he didn’t say anything.

He had to talk to Niall. He was his best friend, his COO. Harry knew that he was blinded by the love he had inside of him, he needed someone with a clear mind.

“Niall, I need you here for a short meeting, it’s personal though so don’t bring anyone with you.” Harry texted Niall after lunch that day. He wasn’t functioning properly, he felt incapacitated from all of this love that he had nowhere to put, and it was time to come clean to someone, although Niall already knew some of the feelings he was harbouring for Y/N.

Not even 2 minutes later, Niall popped into Harry’s office, closing and locking the door. His office at leas had some frosted glass, so they wouldn’t be totally exposed. “What can I do for you, lad?” Niall said as he sat down across from where Harry was sitting, at his desk. Harry looked deep in thought, his arm leaning on the armrest of his chair, chin supported by his hand. He didn’t even know how to say it, but he could feel a word vomit coming up his throat as the silence grew bigger. “I don’t know what to do, Niall.” Harry said, eyes glazing over as the iceberg finally tipped over, and everything came to the surface. Niall instantly looked worried about his friend, not yet knowing where he was going with all of this. Niall leaned forward in his seat, eyes on Harry as he watched him rub his eyes to rid them from tears coming through.

“I’m so in love with her and I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I can’t do anything without thinking of her, I feel totally incapacitated. But I know that if I tell her this, her career could be at risk. I want to let her know, I need to, but it could go wrong in so many ways. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way I do, and I don’t think I could live with that. I’d rather not tell her and keep her in my life for as long as I can…And I know it sounds dramatic, but I’m desperate at this point, Niall, It’s been seven months and I-“ Harry trailed off as he rubbed his eye once again, refusing to let another tear fall for this girl. He was rambling, almost incoherent at times, but Niall listened to him.

Niall knew, he knew without Harry even mentioning her name. It was obvious that they were both in love with each other. The whole office basically knew, except for Harry and Y/N. And for this, Niall wanted to almost laugh at this immensely dense friend of his, but he kept it to himself, aware that this was probably paining Harry more than he knew.

“Harry, I’m going to tell this to you straight and you need to listen to me.” Niall said, no readable look on his face. Harry readied himself for a proper metaphorical fist to the face. He knew this wasn’t right, he was her boss for chirst’s sake. Niall continued. “I think the whole office knows that you’re both in love with each other except for you two. And I need you to get your house in order because I can’t watch this anymore. You’re going to tell her, and you’re doing it tonight. Y/N just left for her half-day and I suggest you call her up right now and see her tonight.” Harry is just staring blankly at Niall, not completely sure that he heard him right. He just starts nodding. And then the tears come. It was relief in some way, and although he still wasn’t sure about her response if he told her, there was still something there for them to build on. “Niall, I-. What if it all goes wrong, I’m her fucking boss, what do I do if she becomes uncomfortable at her own workplace, she’s a genius, I’m going to have to be the one that leaves.” Harry stuttered. “You’re not going to spend a single second thinking about that just yet, because it might not even happen. In fact, I don’t think it will. You know, she’s talking about you all the time. And she has these disgusting puppy eyes every time you just walk past or even glance at her direction. This needs to end. Call her.” Niall continued, supporting his friend. Niall really did think they were endgame, he could already see it when she had her interview here, all those months ago. Harry nodded. And in a moment of bravery, he got out his phone and pressed her contact information.

Y/N’s heart grew when she saw Harry’s contact on her phone. She didn’t waste a second picking up. “Hey, there bossman, everything alright?” She chirped on the other end of the line. Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest. “Y/N.” He just said, as her blood ran cold. She felt like she was in trouble. Had she forgotten something important? Did she do something to offend him? Y/N was thinking at a million miles per hour, every thought she had ever had about Harry was coursing through her brain at the same time. Harry continued. “I was just wondering if I could come see you later, I have something I need to speak to you about.” Harry said, trying his best not to let his emotions spill into his speech. “Harry? Are you alright? I’m free now, do you want me to come back to the office? I just left.” Y/N said. She could tell this wasn’t the regular hang out or check in like in the past two weeks. “I’m alright, love. And don’t turn around. Can I pick you up at 6 and we could go to mine?” Harry said, looking at Niall who was still sitting across from him, nodding and giving him a thumbs up like a child doing a prank call. Harry’s nicknaming made her slightly calmer, maybe he just had a stressful day. Although, he’d never offered her to come to his, if they were hanging out they were always at hers. “Of course, that sounds good. I’ll be outside by 6, then?” Y/N replied. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, okay?”. Harry said and then hung up the phone.

---

Harry’s hands were shaking on the steering wheel of his range rover. When he had gotten home from his office he stormed around his penthouse, cleaning up any mess that he could detect. He made sure he had something to serve her, and some snacks in case they wanted some. Every thought he had about telling her, he tried to steer away. Instead he cleaned up, took a shower, did some nervous pacing around, and now finally, he was behind the wheel, minutes from Y/N’s apartment. It was all or nothing, now. And he thought about every likely outcome for what was about to happen, he just couldn’t stop stressing out about it.

He didn’t want to mess this up. That thirst, longing, yearning feeling for connection had immediately been quenched the minute he met her. The person he had been waiting for. And maybe, if it didn’t turn out the way he was hoping, all those dreams of a love so deep maybe wasn’t meant for him. And maybe it would be okay if that was the outcome. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else but her.

Y/N was stood outside her apartment complex as harry drove up. She looked heart-stoppingly beautiful, like she always did. She had been getting a little better sleep and routines for the past few days, which had been nice to see for Harry. He was such a worry wart when it came to her.

Y/N enthusiastically threw the door open to his car, stepping in as if it was nothing.

“Hi, doll.” Harry said sweetly. “Hi, H.” She replied. “So, what’s this mystery topic you can’t talk about over the phone, huh? Top secret business?” Y/N continued, wiggling her eyebrows in suspense. A smile crept on Harry’s face for maybe the first time today. “I’ll tell you when we get to mine, yeah? You might be surprised, who knows?”

Y/N stepped out of the elevator that led directly into Harry’s penthouse. Her chin was on the floor, she didn’t realize he lived somewhere like THIS. She was almost ashamed of the fact that he had ever hung out in her neighbourhood. She was absolutely well paid as a senior creative at Pleasing, but this was a whole other level. “Sit down, cuppa tea?” Harry led her to his lounge, overlooking the city skyline. “Mhm, yes please.” She said, instead going over to the windows rather than sitting down. Harry disappeared for a second and she could hear him put the kettle on. You could see the office from his window, just barely.

Y/N zoned out in some kind of philosophical thought, looking at the skyline, thinking about her current life. But at the forefront of her mind, she was always thinking about Harry. And now she was at his place.

“Cuppa tea, for you, love.” Harry mentioned, putting their two mugs down on a table by the sofas. Y/N stood still, looking at all the lights as she could feel Harry’s presence behind her. She felt his eyes looking at her, and she craned her neck to take a good look at him. Y/N is thinking that he is getting more beautiful by the day. His defined features lit up by the twinkling lights of the city, and his perfectly unperfect chestnut brown curls, framing his face in the most delicious looking way. A pang of adoration fought it’s way into her chest, but she couldn’t let him know.

“Y/N, I really need to tell you something. And before you say anything I really need you to listen to me and let me explain. Can you come sit down?” Y/N was shaken out of her daydream with his serious words. Y/N could just nod, plopping down on the sofa, facing him as he tried to relax against the back of the sofa. Y/N did her best to put on a calm and settled look, smiling at him when she could tell that he was getting nervous. This was going to be way worse than she was expecting, she’s sure now.

“I don’t even know how to say this.” Harry started. It took everything in Y/N’s body to stay still and not question those words from him, he had told her to just listen at first. Her thoughts were racing, as she stared at him, waiting for more words to come out of his mouth. He doubted his voice, trying to get words out and then it was like he was changing his mind. Over and over again. Y/N reached for his hand that was resting on his thigh, fingers lacing together as she gave him a long, hard squeeze. Harry looked to their interlocked hands, carefully stroking her hand with his callous fingers. He gained courage enough to look straight at her. ”I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I first saw you.” The words left Harry’s mouth as he gauged her reaction to them in real time. Harry continued, “And I feel like an asshole, because I know I’m putting you in a tricky situation with me being selfish and telling you this. But I also want you to know that if you want nothing to do with me, or this situation, that’s okay. I-I just had to tell you, because I felt like I was going to drown If I didn’t.” Harry looked right into her eyes. “I was fucking drowning.” He said, almost like he was all out of air, or breathing oxygen for the first time. Y/N couldn’t believe a single word coming from his mouth. This had to be a prank, it couldn’t be. And if it is true, maybe she wouldn’t feel sad ever again. “Harry…” Y/N got out before he stopped her again, grabbing her same hand with his other one. “I’ve been realizing a lot of things lately, and one of them-.” Harry continued. Y/N could see the gears turning in his head, trying to get the right words out, but she couldn’t wait another second for her lips to collide with his. Her eyes glazed over as she realized that he wasn’t going to let her speak. So instead, she took control. “Harry!” She said loudly. Moving from her position on the sofa, towards him and settling herself in his lap. “Shhhh, I don’t want to hear another word about that, just tell me again.” Y/N said as she got closer to his face. Lips calling out to one another. Harry couldn’t breathe. Not with her this close, with her breath on his lips, her thighs hugging his, his hands around her back. It was Harry’s turn to get teary eyed. It just dawned on him what her answer to his speech would be. “Just tell me.” Y/N breathed against his lips. “Please.” She was almost begging to tell her those words again. Just to know if they were true. “I love you, I’m in love with you.” The words left his mouth like they had been sitting on his lips for his whole existence. Y/N let a watery smile overtake her features, and a chuckle left her mouth. “Thank god.” She whispered as she finally pressed her lips against his. His pink, puffy lips danced with hers as their tongues licked into each other’s mouths. It wasn’t like any first kiss; this was a long time coming. It was desperate, passionate and everything they had been craving. Their wet lips then collided in a smattering of pecks, one after the other being placed on their lovers’ lips. Wanting to do absolutely anything except speaking words right now. “I love you, H.” It was Y/N’s turn to speak, in between desperate kisses. Harry was seeing stars as she said those words loud, her nickname for him feeling like it’s burning a hole through his heart.

It was hard for Harry to be vulnerable. He only really was with his family, and Niall. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to have a possible partner to be vulnerable with. Someone he could pour his heart out to, someone who listened, and who vowed to take care of him. Y/N has stepped into his life and cracked open his whole being, it felt like he was on fire from top to toe from all the emotions and tenseness releasing. Y/N let go from his lips as she felt wetness smeared onto her cheeks. Harry was full on crying now. Y/N put her hands around his cheeks, drawing soft patterns on his cheeks with her thumbs, strategically removing the tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so happy, I promise, I ju-st…” Harry breathed, looking at her with wet, wild eyes, his face leaning into her hold. “I know, it’s alright. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?” Y/N chuckled out, in attempt to lift the moods. Harry nodded, smiling to her. His hands moved to her wrists, holding her in place. “I’m going to tell you everything I’ve been feeling these past few months, but the girl I love just told me she loves me too, so I just need to breathe for a second. Take a good look at her.” Harry joked, eyes still focused on Y/N’s face, his gaze bouncing all over her features, drinking her in. Y/N just nodded to him, her love for the man in front of her glowing in her chest. It had been a long, long time since she had felt like this.

This wasn’t at all what Y/N had in mind when he had called her earlier that day. She really had no idea that he was in love with her, she really had no idea that he felt the same way she had, especially in the last few weeks, with them becoming extra close since her father passed away.

Y/N agreed to stay over at Harry’s that night. She didn’t bring a single thing with her to prepare her for an overnight stay, but Harry had convinced her that he had everything that she would need. And she really didn’t want to let him go, not when their night had turned out like this, maybe she would just stay here, always.

They had barely stopped touching since the moment he told her. Always at least one hand on one another; they had a lot of time to make up for.

As they settled in his bed for the night, it was still early, barely 10. They had changed into soft, comfortable clothing, and Y/N got to borrow a set from him. There they laid, Harry was behind her, strong arms wrapped around her frame, fingers lightly touching and playing. Harry breathed in her scent, burrowing his face into her neck and soft, lavender scented hair.

They talked for hours, pouring their hearts out about the past months that they had known each other. But the tears had since long left their eyes, they had each other now, and there was not a single broken heart in sight.

“I still feel like this is all in my head. Like I’m going to wake up from this dream and I’ll be as fucking lonely and sad as I always am.” Harry said into her neck, placing a light kiss after he finished his sentence. “I know. But it isn’t a dream, although my mind is definitely trying to tell me otherwise.” She replied to him. Her eyes focused on the lights from the city dancing on the walls. Suddenly Y/N turned around in his arms, so that they were facing eachother. “Hi.” She said. “Hi, sweet girl:” Harry’s reply came so easily, and he was finally able to say it whenever they wanted to. “I think we need to talk about work, what do we say to HR, do we even say anything? I know it’s all still so new, but I want you to know that I’m all in…if you want that as well.” Y/N continued, a worried look on her face. The thought was bothering Harry as well, but as things had turned out well for them, his positive mindset was telling him that it was going to be alright. And work, HR and people’s opinions was about the last thing he wanted to talk to her about. At least for tonight.

They talked for hours, kissed for hours. In this room, it was just them, Harry and Y/N. They had both been craving this for so long, Y/N had thought of him so much. How it would feel like to be loved by him, what it was like to feel his hands on her body, in her hair, on her cunt. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it some nights when she was all by herself in her apartment, with her hands between her legs. Heavy breath lingering in the air as his name left her lips in a desperate call for him to do anything to her, anything he wanted. She had felt guilty about it, of course. But now that they were in his bed together, those illicit thoughts were starting to creep back into her head. Now that he was touching all over her, she wanted more.

Her lips reached for his neck, leaving wet kisses and small bites around his soft spot, as Harry’s breathing got a little heavier. “Love, what are you up to, hm?” He said in the gentlest voice, knowing where this was going as her kisses had suddenly changed from pure and loving, to slightly more sexual. “Tell me what you need, pet. I’ll give you anything, do you know that?” Harry continued, as he brought his lips to hers. Y/N almost mewled out a reply, mind fuzzy from his scent and sweet talking. “I need you, everywhere. Please. Just do anything, I’m yours.” Her eyes closing as Harry placed kisses all over her face, nose, cheeks and corners of her mouth. “You’re mine now, huh? I love to hear those words from you, you have no idea. But I need you to tell me what to do pet, what do you want?” He tried again, wanting to make sure that she knew what she was asking for, and wasn’t just caught up in her hazy mind. “I need you to touch me, k-kiss me, I just want you, H.” Y/N said desperately, in an almost whisper. Harry chuckled at the sweet girl in front of him. Of course he was going to take care of her. “Alright, love I’ve got you, yeah? But I need you to tell me if there’s something you need or if you want me to stop, do you understand?” Harry spoke clearly to her now, looking into her eyes to make sure that his message got through. “Yes. Yes, H, I want you.” She got out, her hands now underneath his t-shirt, nails scraping against his stomach. Harry’s hands touched her all over, keeping her close to his body, his hands travelled south and dipped into the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants. He stroked her soft skin over the thighs, bum and finally stopped on the outside of her underwear. Their mouths connected, and Harry was trying to stay focused on her pleasure, on the ques and clues she was leaving him with her touches and the way she moved. “Please, H” She moaned out, so zeroed in o finally getting a little taste of him on her tongue. “Shhh, pet, you’ll get all of me, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her as his hand grazed over her underwear, laying soft and gentle strokes over her underwear, right on her clit. He moved devilishly slow, and Y/N was aching for more, higher pleasure from him. A moan slipped from Y/N’s lips and it was like all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his cock, almost making him lightheaded. Harry’s fingers that were moving on the outside of her underwear was now moving said underwear out of the way, being able to fully feel how wet she had become just from a few touches. Y/N had started to tug on his t-shirt. “Off, I want it off” she said to him in the dimly lit room, wanting to see all of him. Harry chuckled at the silly, sweet girl in his bed and removed himself from her, pulling his shirt over his head aswell as removing his sweats, just in his underwear mow. His next mission was to get Y/N out of her kit. He tugged on her t-shirt. “Is this alright? Wanna see you.” Harry whispered in her ear as his large hands were already underneath the t-shirt she was wearing, massaging her soft sides. Without a word from her, she sat up, and pulled it all off, discarding the t-shirt and her bra on the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful, love.” Harry said, without tearing his gaze away from her breasts. His mouth instantly coming towards her belly and kissing up towards her boobs, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples, fingers tugging and rolling the other one. A moan ripping out of Harry’s chest the second he got a taste of her. “Shit, H, that feels…” Y/N moaned out, fingers running through Harry’s hair, slightly tugging on it. Harry continued kissing her chest, any skin he could to touch or kiss, he was there. Desperate to taste every inch of skin that she’d offer him.

Harry’s mouth started to travel down Y/N’s belly, teasing at the waistband with his green eyes looking into her’s for permission to remove them. Y/N slightly lifted her hips to make it easier for him, and her underwear and sweats were on the floor in barely a second, his body falling in between her legs, as he continued to kiss anywhere he could get to. “Are you going to let me have a taste, pet? Yeah?” He said to her, eyes still looking into hers. Another “please” fell from her lips, eager to get him on her. “Hmm, so kind to me, yeah? I’ll show you my worth, I promise you.” Harry said with a gentle tone, leaving her even more needy and ready for him to do something; anything. His lips finally met with her wet cunt, licking broad, strong swipes over her entrance and clit. Harry moaned at the taste of her, his eyes falling shut; he’d been dreaming about tasting her like this, but this was way better than anything he could’ve imagined. Y/N was writhing in her place on the mattress, her hips chasing after his tongue and heavy moans escaping her throat as he continued to kiss, lick and poke at her with his tongue. “You’re so goo-d, Harry, fuck! You’re mine, please,” Her moans encouraged him and simultaneously made his cock even harder, if that was even possible. Harry’s arms came up, one arm over her hips to slightly still her, and one over her breast, teasing her nipple. “I’m yours, don’t worry pet.” He replied to her, letting go of her messy, wet cunt for just a second before diving back in. Y/N’s hand flew to his hair, searching for anything to hold on to in her intense amount of pleasure. “Please, I’m going to come, you’re gonna make me com-e, please” Y/N was moaning out, almost screaming at this point, to deep into her pleasure to realise how loud she as being. Harry didn’t mind it at all. The hand that was previously on her breast moved down to her cunt, a finger playing at her entrance before pushing two of them inside her, slightly curving his fingers as he could feel her clenching around them. Y/N could almost black out at this point. She could barely remember the last time someone else had made her come this hard, it wasn’t usually happening at all with her previous partners. Her breathing started to get heavier as she came closer to her climax. “Come for me, pet, let me taste what I’ve worked so hard for. Look at me.” Harry let out, having to rut his hips into the mattress to get some kind of relief, he felt like he could come just by looking at her in this immense state of pleasure. With her eyes locked to his, she came, orgasm ripping through her body, legs trembling as Harry worked her through her orgasm with his mouth and fingers. When she slowly started to come down, Harry’s touches became lighter and more gentle, not wanting to overwhelm her after such an intense orgasm. As Harry’s lips let go of her, he moved to crash down on top of her, kissing her puffy, swollen lips. He had already missed her mouth. “I think I’m going to have to keep you forever, if that’s how you’re going to make me come.” Y/N admitted with a smile, her flushed face close to his and lips lingering on each other. “Darling, you know I wouldn’t mind, I’m here for as long as you want me.” He said back. Now it was her hands that started to travel down to his boxers, slipping inside of his boxers and gently stroking over his cock. “Shit, doll, I’m not going to last if you put your hands and me and I’m planning on at least two more orgasms for you.” Harry shakily breathed against her lips. “Mmmh” Was Y/N’s only reply, instead ridding him of his underwear and mumbling. “Are you clean, please tell me you’re clean I just want to feel you. I have a Nexplanon.” She almost begged him, it felt like too much to just get out of bed in search of a condom. “I got tested after my last partner, I’m clean as well, do you trust me? I could go get a condom, it’s no trouble, pet.” He replied in between kisses.

“No condom, I want to feel all of you. Please?” Her wide eyes looked into his for any kind of regret about it. She trusted him, he had already proven himself to be loyal and trustworthy, and she couldn’t find a single reason not to believe him although Y/N religiously always wore a condom with new partners. “Of course, pet, give you everything, you can trust me. Always so good for me, yeah?” He said, loving her reaction to the words that came out of her mouth. He turned them around, so that he was on his back, with her on top. “I want you on top to start with, okay? You can go as fast or as slow as you’d like, pet, it’s up to you.” Her heart trembled as he encouraged her to feel good with his body, completely trusting her and wanting to go at her pace. Although, her face fell slightly as her confidence wore thin when she had been on top with previous partners. Harry could read her immediately. “Shhh, no frown on that beautiful face, just to start and then I’ll take over when you’re ready, yeah?” He said, sitting up so their naked, upper bodies were flush against each other. “C’mon, doll, take what you want.” He encouraged her as she lined him up and slowly sank down onto him. She was slightly worried about taking him, he was above average in comparison to others and she wasn’t a fan of the pain that it could bring. But as sank down and took all of him, and she had never felt such a spark of pure pleasure as he filled her up. “Fuck me, pet, you feel so good around me, never had anyone feel this good on my cock.” Harry praised her, as she started to slowly grind her hips for some friction. Harry held her close, arms clasped around her upper body for support, as he attached his lips to hers. They moaned into each others mouth as Harry’s encouragement made her more brave and she moved more freely, her hips desperate for more, more of him. She had never felt this good during sex. Y/N’s thighs were burning from the work out she was getting, her belly on fire from him, so deep inside of her. “You feel good, baby? You’re taking my cock so well, look at you.” Harry praised her. She could barely think straight, not even being able to form a single word as more moans escaped from her lips and spilled into his mouth. His lips went to her neck, leaving lovebites, kissing, sucking, not for a second thinking of any marks he was leaving, deciding that he liked it like that. “Harry…” Y/N let out a tired whimper of his name, feeling so close to another orgasm already, but her legs felt like jelly, and she was frustrated that she couldn’t keep up her pace to chase after her climax. “I’ve got you.” Harry replied, giving her a big smile as his hands came up to her sweaty face to get some hairs away from her eyes. He just wanted to see her properly. “Going to let me take care of you? Make you come, again?” Harry continued, a proud, cocky, smile on his lips. Y/N just about had time to nod as he pushed her onto her back onto the mattress, getting up after her and getting on top of her. “This is my favourite…” Harry said into her neck, proceeding to put both of her legs over his shoulder, Harry leaning over her. As he pushed himself back into her, Y/N could swear she was seeing stars, the angle made up for her almost lost orgasm as after just a few strong thrusts, she was barrelling towards her orgasm again. Her hand attempted to slip in between them, to rub her puffy clit, she could taste her orgasm, it was just right there. Harry had realised quickly pulling up her arm and replacing her hand with his. “You’re going to come for me, again, pet? Spoiling me, aren’t you?” Harry laughed, pressing and pinching her clit, as Y/N’s lips attached to his neck. His scent was grounding her as another orgasm rolled through her body, causing her to grip on to Harry hard, pressing herself against him as if he would vanish at any given moment. Y/N’s nails pressed into his biceps, his shoulder blades, earning a grunt from Harry. Every nerve ending in her body was exploding, wanting more him, needing him like water or air.

Harry’s pace didn’t falter, he worked her through her orgasm and continued. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but she didn’t want to stop, she wanted more. “Darling, look what you’re doing to me. Promised you another one though, didn’t i? I’m so close, pet, be gentle with me, alright? Harry stuttered softly to her, kissing her lips as he released her legs from his shoulders, pulling out of her. Wordlessly, he turned her to her side, placing a pillow under her head as he got in behind her and pulled Y/N’s leg up for him to enter her again. Y/N was lost for words, she was in some hazy dream state driven by her lust for him, and not thinking a single thought besides him. “There we go,” Harry whispered to her, his arm encasing her shoulders as his other hand find it’s way back to her clit, in hopes of luring her into another orgasm. Y/N sighed as he picked up his pace again, her head falling back on his shoulder as she let him manipulate her to wherever he wanted. She was almost pissed at this point; she had gone her whole life without having sex that was this could? She had no idea that this is what it could’ve been. And she’s also pissed at herself for missing out on so much time with him, when he had been in love with her this whole time.

“Pet, you’re going to make me come any moment, where do you want it?” Harry’s voice was strained, trying to keep his composure as he neared his end. Y/N could barely get her words out, already feeling her next orgasm growing from those words he said to her. “Inside, come inside me.” She manged to say into the air as she turned her head slightly to catch his lips.

Harry let out an otherworldly moan from that sentence. “So good to me, Y/N, i’m going to come, are you with me?” He grunted out, his thrusts quickening as did his hand on her clit. Y/N was sure she was going to black out by the time they were done, as she felt her orgasm triggered by Harry’s cock steadily poking her g-spot. Y/N just about screamed, hands clawing at Harry’s arms, writhing around in the bed, wanting to get closer to him and get away from him at the same time. She could feel Harry’s cock twitching inside of her and his cum filling her as his pace faltered, giving deep, hard thrusts into her. They were both moaning out, breathing laboured, as they had just ran a marathon. Y/N was now shivering in her post orgasmic state, Harry’s cock still inside of her as he had caught up to reality, placing soft kisses on her neck, jaw, and cheek.

“Did so good for me, you feel okay, pet? I’m honestly kind of pissed that we didn’t get to do this earlier, best I’ve ever had.” Harry mumbled, nose grazing her cheek. Y/N smiled, slowly coming back to reality; their minds had to be connected somehow. Y/N turned around in bed, now facing him on their sides as she clung on to him. Sweaty bodies embracing each other, heartrates still way too high to be healthy. “Mm-hmm.” Was all she could reply to him, as she closed her eyes, taking in his scent, a mixture of sweat, his cologne and pure man, peppery, citrusy. “I don’t even think I could form a proper sentence; you’ve absolutely wrecked me.” Y/N manged to get out, a teasing smile on her lips as their eyes made contact. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping I’d ruin everyone else for you, you’re mine now, huh?” Harry winked at her, an almost comedic tone to his voice, although Y/N could see the hopeful glint in his eyes as he had repeated those words back to her. He can’t fool her that easily. “I am yours. If you’ll be mine.” She said to him, watching a glowing smile spread over his face, a puff of air escaping his lungs, full of all the love he had for her. “I’m all yours, and I have been for a long time.”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #ceo harry styles #ceo!harry #ceorry #harry styles smut

1K notes · View notes

natailiatulls07 · 5 months ago

Text

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - A little walk to Pascale salon turns into an anxiety attack because of some intrusive fans (I have changed the request slightly, I hope you don't mind x)

Warning - Mention of Jules Bianchi, fans being intrusive, anxiety attack (It's not that descriptive), multiple mentions of being in the public eye/limelight

A/n - Tumblr is being a bit weird rn so I'm gonna try and post this again lol x

Marguerite

Being in the public eye does have its consequences, espercially when your father is considered a formula one legend and your guardian/older brother is a very popular current formula one driver.

One of these consequences is anxiety, it's something Y/n developed from a very young age. Of course she has her coping mechanisms and the people in her inner circle know how to help her.

It was a slow day for Marguerite. She didn't have any classes and she'd have the apartment to herself today. Usually she'd have Tom, her boyfriend, round to hang out but he was busy.

The day started out okay; Y/n had caught up with any unfinished assignments before relaxing in the living room. Rewatching her favourite show and playing with Leo.

Alexandra and Charles were out all day, leaving the dog with the younger girl. Charles had a press event for his ice cream brand, Lec, and Y/n knew that it'd be hard to contact the pair.

Normally Marguerite would join them, but she felt as though she hadn't stopped recently. Between grand prixs, school, social events and travel, she hadn't had a proper break in a long while. Don't get me wrong; she loves her life and she's forever grateful for the privileges, opportunities and things she gets but a girl needs a break ever so often.

Around about half day, she decided that Leo and herself needed some fresh air so Y/n quickly got everything ready. Hooking the lead to Leo's collar, allowing the excited dog to slip through the front door before following in suit.

Marguerite was wearing a basic outfit, no effort at all, just hoping that she wouldn't be recognized. Particularly in Monaco, Y/n is usually seen and recongized.

"Right, let's go Leo.."

The sun shined down on Y/n and Leo as they casually strolled past the harbour, she thought about walking up to Le Quai 28. It had been a long time since she's seen Pascale.

Yeah it was a bit of a walk but that meant less time confined to a stuffy apartment which was needed.

They were half way there when things started to go down hill. The sun had decided to hide behind a grey gloomy cloud. With a soft huff, Marguerite quickened the pace hoping to avoid the impending rain.

But her new pace came to a stop when three girls, alittle bit older than her, came rushing to her. They all had excited and giddy smiles on their faces. It scared her slightly.

"Hey, we love you, Charles, Alexandra! Oh and Leo, like oh my god hi!" Y/n knew they meant well but the continuous squeals and giggle made her slightly uncomfortable. Espercially today, she wasn't feeling social interactions with strangers really.

In her hand Marguerite felt Leo trying to tug on the lead, just like her he was just as uncomfortable.

But it only got worse. The sudden attention on Marguerite caused more people to notice her and Leo. She painted a forced smile to her face, the smile not meeting her eyes - not that anyone really noticed. More people started to crowd around her.

"Can you give me a shoutout on your social media? It would mean the world to me!"

"Y/n! Y/n! Can I have a photo please?"

"What's your favorite memory of Jules? It must be incredible to grow up as his daughter!"

That last comment stung slightly. Y/n loved to honour her late father but sometimes when strangers ask about her childhood with him, it's something she wants to keep for herself.

To her, it felt intrusive. You wouldn’t go up to a random stranger asking about their favourite memory from childhood.

Looking down Marguerite noticed how flustered and unsettled the poor small dog had gotten. Quickly she bent down to pick him up which relaxed him luckily.

"Excuse me, I- I would love to stay, chat and take photos...but I have to be somewhere.." She felt her pulse pick up and her smile fell slight before she was quick to bring the corners of lips up again.

After pushing past the crowd, her quick pace was resumed only this time alittle bit quicker.

Everything had flipped upside down for Marguerite, her anxiety had gone crazy unfortunately.

Tears clouded on her waterline, quick and short intakes of breaths pushed passed her lips. She hadn't put down Leo yet, she wasn't even planning on doing so.

Y/n wanted to call Charles and Alexandra but she knew that she wouldn't get an answer so making a mad dash to Pascale would be her best option.

It didn't take long for the two to arrive at Pascales salon, rushing in as the tears started to fall over a plump cheeks. Heads turned but they all knew her. Pascale was excited to see the young girl and the small dog, however that excitement fell short when she noticed the anxiety attack happening.

She moved towards the teen, taking Marguerite into her arms. Pascale had a slight idea of what had happened. It wasn't the first time.

She spent the next hour calming down Y/n, letting her and Leo relax in the back office. After a while, the older women decided that she'd call Charles to take Marguerite home.

First call…ringtone.

Second call…ringtone.

Third times a charm…ringtone.

Her shoulders slumped at the unsuccessful third attempt, her manicured nails raking through her hair. As much as she loved Marguerite and Leo, Pascale knew this wasn’t the place for her to be in this state - She needed to be home.

“I think you might have to wait here for a little while Marguerite…until Charles or Alexandra pick up..”

Pascale had sympathy for the young girl, growing up in the limelight wasn’t something that came easy to anyone really.

Around about two hours later, Y/n’s phone started to buzz and Charles’ photo filled her screen. She was quick to pick up the phone and answer the call.

“Hi Charlie..”

Her voice was quiet and soft. And little sniffles came from her nose every so often.

On the other side of the call stood Alexandra and Charles back at the apartment, both confused as to where the teenager and the dog had gone.

“Hey Marguerite, where are you? Are you alright?” His voice was filled with concern and confusion. He was glad to hear her voice but it sounded different.

“Y-yeah…I’m with Pascale and Leo at the salon…” Charles watched as Alexandra picks up his keys, they’d meet her at the salon. “Charlie…I had an anxiety attack..”

You see the driver knew of her anxiety, he was similar and they could relate to each other. But it broke him to know that he wasn’t there to help her in a time in need, something he vowed to the late Jules to do in his honour.

Y/n took in another breath of air, relaxing herself once again. “I was walking with Leo and then…a bunch of fans came and bombarded me…really shook me”

There were annoyed frowns on the older couples faces, they truly love the fans but especially not when they do things like that. They just wished they’d understand respect and privacy.

“Okay..I’m so sorry Marguerite, we’re on our way to the salon now…you and Leo sit tight and relax”

Alexandra’s voice rang through the phone call, she always had a reassuring tone to her voice - Something Y/n always really appreciated.

“Hmm…guys?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you and thank you…” Their hearts just swelled.

“We love you too Marguerite..” Charles voice echoed back through to her, making sure she felt that same love and thankfulness she had for them.

408 notes · View notes

earthtooz · 2 years ago

Text

x : ABUNDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you and you don't know how to stop him either.

warnings: rich pro-athlete!rin, gn!reader- reader wears lip gloss and perfume but i am an avid believer that they are gn, rin is dramatic (tm), fluff, swearing. 1.6k wc

a/n: rin is a clown in my eyes LMFAO no but this was kinda self-indulgent and i just can't stray too far from itoshi rin before he inevitably pulls me back. haven't written anything for him in a while so it feels good to be back to my roots. also no i'm not off break lol i did say that i was still gonna write and come back to post hehe. ENJOY!! rbs appreciated !!

itoshi rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you.

and you didn’t know how to get him to stop spoiling you. you could never resist his presents no matter what shape or size, whether they were little nendoroids of your favourite anime characters to the latest designer bags, you would always accept them with a grateful smile.

however, there’s always a tug of guilt at your chest that makes you little hesitant, not wanting rin to waste unnecessary money on you. yet whenever you make this feeling known to rin, he scoffs and waves your concerns off, ending the conversation there as he urges you to open his presents, more concerned about your reaction than how much money is being extracted from his account.

what’s the point of money if he can’t spoil you with it? that’s always been his philosophy. besides, it’s not like you’re forcing him to, so what’s the big deal?

if there was a certain brand of perfume you wanted, he was going to buy it. if you needed a bigger monitor then he’ll buy it. if you needed a streaming platform to watch a certain show on then he’d buy it too, not a problem. in fact, you’re sure rin is funding the spotify premium for your account because he got tired of all the ads he had to listen to when sharing headphones with you.

despite rin’s insistence that he was more than okay to spend money on you, it didn’t stop the growing feeling of guilt festering in your gut. so eventually you stopped bringing up things you wanted to buy in front of rin, leaving to write them down in your notes app instead.

the pro-athlete doesn’t question the abrupt lack of complaints about things you needed to buy, leaving him blissfully unaware of the things you had been buying for yourself and him.

this dance continues for a little and it’s not until date night three weeks later that he figures you out. you never stood a chance against rin’s perceptiveness especially when one of his favourite things to do was watch you get ready for said date nights, leaving it only a matter of time before he’d realise,

“looking gorgeous as always,” he compliments whilst walking up to stand behind you, dressed handsomely in a crisp suit with his hair swept sideways- a hairstyle he began to wore more often when he realised how often you stared at him during a boring sponsorship event which turned out a lot more eventful thanks to the simple hair change.

you smile at him in the mirror as rin places a kiss on the side of your head, hand going to your hip before situating himself on the bed, glancing down at his watch to check that you were still on time for the dinner reservation.

when he looks back up at you, his eyes zero in on the foreign lipgloss you were holding in your hands and the small smile rin wore falls into a scowl. rin knows he didn’t get that for you, and judging from the sleekness of the packaging, it looks new. he withholds his suspicions, brushing them off.

alarms blare in rin’s head again when he notices the foreign highlighter in your hands. contrarily, you remain ignorant to rin’s inquisitive stare as you lean in close to the mirror to apply the product, too used to the usual intensity of his gaze to bat an eye.

the last straw is the perfume you use, spritzing it on your wrists, behind your ears and neck, doing a little fanning motion with your hands once you were done.

“okay, i’m ready, let’s go before we’re lat-” you say, turning around to look at rin, cutting yourself off when you notice the look of distraught on his face. “what’s the matter?”

walking over to where he sat, you leisurely lay your forearms on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst doing so. the smell of your foreign perfume enters his nose and although it was a very nice and charming scent, the athlete’s nose scrunches in displeasure, eyebrows furrowing further.

“do i have something on my face?” you ask, backing away. rin grabs your hands before you can stray too far.

“no, not that,” he puts your hands on his shoulders again. “did you always have this lipgloss? and i don’t recognise this perfume.”

“oh, i bought it not too long ago.”

he looks at you as though you’ve committed the most blasphemous offence against him, which, you did. “excuse me?”

“i bought it?” you reaffirm, a lilt of confusion in your tone.

rin narrows his eyes, combating your confusion with scrutiny. “you bought it.” you nod. “with your own money?”

“duh.”

he exhales loudly through his nose and you can feel the judgement oozing off him. “no that’s not right. i have to fix this.”

abruptly swapping your positions so that you were now sitting on the bed, rin disappears into the bathroom, emerging with a pack of makeup removers before sifting through your numerous products, that look of concentration never leaving his face.

“we’re gonna be late, rin,” you say from where he planted you, watching helplessly as your boyfriend approaches to stand in front of you, crouching down to be eye level with you. rin takes out a wipe from the packet before gently rubbing it on your lips, touch contrastingly gentle to his fiery gaze.

“don’t care. this is more important.”

rin fiddles with the highlighter that he bought for you, opening it cautiously and using the same brush you always use as he carefully paints your skin with the glitter. it amazes you just how observant rin is as he traces all the spots correctly, knowing you down to of the most insignificant, tiny details.

he does the same with the lip gloss, opening the familiar bottle before putting a luxurious amount of the product over your lips. you don’t complain about it, not when rin’s nose scrunches in concentration and not when he makes a disgruntled noise because he overlined the lip gloss, wiping it from the corner of your mouth.

nevertheless, when rin pulls away, he admires his handiwork with a content grin, the scowl now fading. “much better,” he mumbles, grinning slightly. before you could say anything though, the athlete stumbles away to put your makeup away, returning with a bottle of perfume that he also bought for you.

“do not spray that on me. the scents will clash,” you threaten. rin blinks at you before grabbing your wrist, spritzing a small amount before repeating the same step on your other pulse points.

his actions were sweet and you understood that rin had good intentions, but through the endearment you felt for your lover, there is an undeniable feeling of dejection settling within you. “i liked the products that i bought,” you murmur, tone slightly downcast as you express your thoughts. “i like using my own money sometimes too, rin.”

the smile rin wore falls ever so slightly as he looks at your somewhat-dejected form, crouching in front of you instinctively as to get a better glance at your face.

“i feel horrible whenever you use your money on me. especially on things that are way too expensive and way out of my budget. i don’t want people- i don’t want you to get the wrong idea of us,” you confess the last part breathily, rubbing your arms awkwardly. “and i hate feeling like i owe something to you.”

“hey, you know that will never happen, we’re not like that,” he rubs a hand on your knee reassuringly. “i buy things for you because i know, and don’t talk about this lukewarm shit about ‘owing’ me. if anything i owe you for putting up with me.”

you let his words sink in with a sigh, focusing on the warmth of rin’s palm.

“and i also buy things for you because you only deserve the best. none of that mediocre crap that anybody can buy.”

“but what if i like the ‘lukewarm shit’?”

“then you need better tastes, but i guess i have no choice but to buy it for you.” he stands up ever so slightly to kiss you.

you back away, cutting him off with a press of your finger against his lips. “rin. no.”

he gives you a withering glare for denying his affection.

“that’s not the point. as much as i love and appreciate it when you do buy things for me, i would also appreciate it if you let me use my own money too.”

the soccer player backs away, eyes scanning your expression to decide on what to say next. he sighs when he sees the determination in your face and like a dam giving out, it’s the first sign of rin’s stubbornness surrendering to your pleas. “fine, i’ll respect your choice, but it doesn’t mean that i like it.”

you grin, pulling him back in for the kiss he wanted earlier, catching rin off guard briefly before his shock subsides, letting him melt right into you. your lipgloss was now effectively ruined but you didn’t have it in you to care much. rin could always reapply it for you.

“but i’m paying for dinner,” he asserts against your mouth.

“deal.”

you return home tomorrow to see the same products you bought for yourself on your shared bed. except brand new and still in their sleek packages.

what were you going to do with rin?

#personally i'm abt to make out with him- what... who said that... anyways... hope u enjoyed !!#sorry if this fic isn't coherent #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin drabble #itoshi rin #itoshi rin bllk #blue lock

5K notes · View notes

bradshawssugarbaby · 8 months ago

Text

All-American Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's every part the doting dad to your daughter Tatum, but after talking to some of the other wives on base in your mom's group, you're worried he may be hiding his true feelings about fatherhood.

A/N: not me procrastinating and adding to my country music series instead of literally anything else on my list. here's sickeningly sweet bradley as a girl dad fluff based off All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader

content/warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff, Bradley as a girl dad, mentions of sexism.

word count: 1.4k

Now he's wrapped around her finger, she's the center of his whole world And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl

Bradley groaned as he jogged up the front steps, his boots heavy against the brick as he walked up the veranda to the front door. An American flag flapped in the breeze, the pole nestled in the stand attached to the pillar on the front of the house, the mid-afternoon sun striking the front yard, basking over the dozens of plants and greenery that were planted there. Bradley kicked his boots off the moment he crossed the entryway, stacking them neatly by the door. He started unzipping his flight suit, his tanned skin slicked with sweat from the training exercises he’d completed earlier that day. He thought about the list of things he wanted to do before he settled in for the night with you - a shower was the first priority at this point.

Peeling the olive green suit off his skin, he discarded it in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. His white t-shirt and boxers followed suit, along with the thick, military issued socks. He’d plan on washing those tonight after dinner. He padded along the hallway to the bathroom, his balls of his feet sticking to the cherry wood flooring. The cool water flowing from the shower head was a refreshing comfort compared to how warm he was earlier, he contemplated asking for a transfer to somewhere colder after today - the hot Pacific coast sun was brutal, and despite having lived in California for a few years now, Bradley hadn’t adjusted. Not that Virginia Beach had been much cooler - at least, not in the summer, but it wasn’t as consistently warm as it was on the west coast.

As Bradley stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a plush, lavender coloured towel around his waist. Shaking his caramel coloured curls dry, he approached the vanity, reaching for the pomade - the same brand he’d been using to tame his hair since he was 14. His mom had taught him that trick - using a styling pomade to keep his curls intact, but less wild than they would be left to their own devices. Part of him wondered if he just never changed brands because it was the one she’d suggested for him, one of the last happy memories of his mother that he had clung to for the last 26 years.

“Bradley? I’m home!” you called out from the bottom of the stairs, having seen Bradley’s vintage Ford Bronco parked in the driveway.

“Upstairs, honey!” He yelled back, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty house.

He quickly pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a fresh, white t-shirt, grabbing his favourite floral print button-down on his way down the stairs. He beamed at you, leaning in to give you a loving peck on the cheek. He knelt down in front of the car seat you’d placed on the floor, smiling softly at his infant daughter as she stretched and yawned, waking up from the nap she’d taken on the car ride home.

“Good mornin’ sunshine! How’s my girl?”

Bradley held his index finger out to baby Tatum, smiling as she gripped it tightly in her hand. He began unbuckling her harness with his free hand as he spoke to her.

“Did you have a fun day with Mama? What did you do, princess? You and your mama go shopping for some new clothes, baby girl?”

Tatum let out a happy sigh as Bradley scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving up and down her back in soft, slow, gentle strokes as he cuddled his baby. He took a seat on the couch, leaning back slightly so Tatum could recline on his chest. He smiled up at you, waiting patiently for you to start showing off the different outfits you’d purchased for Tatum. He’d always sworn that he’d never be the type of father who’d dismiss things he wasn’t interested in - whether it was baby clothes, or ballet, baby and me classes or going for walks around the neighborhood with her - he’d always try his best to be into it. It’s how his mom described his father - always interested in anything to do with Bradley when he was little.

You delicately sifted through the array of dresses and outfits, each garment infused with your hopes and dreams for little Tatum. With tender affection, you recounted where and when you had acquired each piece, your voice tinged with a blend of excitement and maternal pride. Tatum slumbered peacefully, her soft breaths creating a gentle rhythm against Bradley's shoulder, while you poured your heart into sharing your plans for her future attire.

As the last dress found its place, you sank onto the couch beside Bradley, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Nestling into his side, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, his arm offering both physical and emotional support.

“Are you happy?” you murmured softly, a trace of uncertainty lacing your words as you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip.

A flicker of confusion danced across Bradley's features before he met your gaze with unwavering reassurance.

“Of course I’m happy, why would you ask that?”

“It’s silly,” you sighed, a moment of vulnerability surfacing before you continued, meeting Bradley’s brown-eyed gaze as you spoke, “It’s just that…you know how I took Tatum to that mommy and me group?”

"Mhmm, every Wednesday," Bradley affirmed, his attention fully focused on you.

“Right! That one. Well…one of the moms was saying how she was so thankful her baby was a boy, because her husband wanted a boy really badly and she didn’t want him to be upset if he didn’t get what he wanted…”

Bradley's brow furrowed with concern as he gently kissed Tatum's forehead, a protective gesture that spoke volumes.

“Babe, he sounds like a dick,” Bradley interjected, shaking his head as he gently kissed Tatum’s forehead again.

“I’m not finished yet!” You said as you held your hand up. “So anyways, she said that, and a lot of the other moms started talking and saying how their husbands were disappointed when they had girls or relieved when they had sons, and then they said how lucky I was that you were happy with a girl. The one of them said her husband pretended to be, but then he was totally different and genuinely happy when they had a boy next.”

“And you think I’m doing that?” Bradley queried as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you.

“Well, no, but…would you tell me if you’d wanted a son instead?”

The corner of Bradley's mouth lifted in a soft smile, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "No," he replied emphatically, shaking his head. “Because I’ve never wanted a son instead of Tatum. Not once.”

“You haven’t?” You said as relief washed over you, Bradley's words washing away any lingering doubts.

“Not for a second. I’ve wanted Tatum from the minute you told me you were pregnant - I never really gave a shit whether she was a boy or a girl. She’s mine and that’s all I care about. It just happened to turn out that she’s the second Bradshaw girl around here to steal my heart, after her mama.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm, you know that song, the one where she says about how her daddy was praying for a boy, but got a girl instead and she was wrapped around his finger? Then she grows up and asks her husband one day what he wants, and he says he just wants a sweet, beautiful All-American girl like his wife?”

“Yeah, I know it,” You laugh softly as Bradley begins to hum the tune of the song, singing it softly as he looks down at Tatum.

“That’s exactly how I felt when you told me you were having a girl. I just wanted a beautiful little baby who looked just like you, and that’s exactly what I got. Now I have two beautiful girls who love me more than anything, and I would move mountains for the pair of you. We could have twelve girls for all I care - I’d love every single one of them just as much as I love you.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction

859 notes · View notes

shugarbunni · 1 month ago

Text

pt.1 of kitty!reader x professor!james... enjoy!

"professor?" your voice breaks through the chatter of the group of professors (Mr Potter, Mr Lupin, Mr Black, Mr Pettigrew and, every students favourite, Mrs Evans.) as you crack the classroom door open. its lunch break, really you should be out in the campus cafeteria with your friends, but you just had to ask him (him being your secret sex god boyfriend, professor potter) about the test results, right?

their heads snap up, James huffing softly in exasperation when he sees you. none of the other professors know, to your knowledge. James said they'd have his bloody head if they knew he'd started sleeping with a student.

"uhm, sorry for intruding" you say in that faux sickly sweet voice of yours "i just had a few questions about my grade?"

Sirius gives James a smirk, only to be kicked under the table by James. James swivels his chair to fully face you, giving you a soft yet stern look.

"we can discuss at the end of the day, kit." he says, the other professors awkwardly looking away.

"i'm not gunna be on campus, I'm going out." you frown, brows furrowing in confusion. he never turns you down. like, ever.

"right." he huffs, scratching the back of his neck, his bicep pushing against the fabric of his shirt. jesus fuck, he's hot. "then we can go over them tomorrow, kit. alright?" he says, and its obvious he's trying to be strict. why the hell is he being strict?

"oh." you almost pout, shoulders slumping in disappointment "right, okay. yeah, tomorrow." you fluster, scurrying out of the classroom before anything else can be said.

well, great. you'd went in expecting a fuck and a five minute nap on his lap, only to be, what? turned down? asshole. he's a total asshole!

"you're doing the right thing, mate." Remus huffs as you leave the classroom, the energy tense "she's barely 20, James. trust me, you're saving the both of you a lot of trouble."

"i know." he mumbles, gazing off into the distance with a crease between his brows. lily shoves him, a stern look on her face "i know, okay?" he reiterates, trying to be more convincing "i know its better if i cut it off i just... nevermind." he says as he slumps in his chair, pushing his lunch away.

"its your fault for telling us." lily says, shrugging as she swallows her food "you must've known wed make you shut it down, James."

"i did- alright, i did know. i just didn't think id be this fucking bothered." he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"yeah, well" Sirius grins, nudging him "were gunna go out tonight. like old times, hm? get y'mind off it?"

"..fine. but only us 5. I'm not going if you two bring your happy relationships to shove in my face. already have to deal with moony n pads." he complains, pointing at lily and peter.

"Emma hates going out, you know that" peter says through a mouthful of pasta. Emma, his girlfriend (who he's been with for four years, mind you. he's got to pop the question sometime, surely). she's a sweet girl - one of those vegan, farmers market, crochet all your blankets and tea pot covers type of people. her and Pete really suit, honestly.

"and Mary's working tonight." lily says with a proud smile. Mary, lily's girlfriend since they were all at high school. again, very sweet person. shes a nurse now, which is very on brand for her. always did love helping people.

"brilliant!" Sirius beams, toying with remus' hand, who gives him a soft smile and a nod.

well, tonight could either go wonderfully or horribly. James could definitely wait to find out which it's gunna be.

okay i don't know how to feel about this!! ill do an intro to my kitty!reader soon, let me know if you guys r into this or not<3

220 notes · View notes

gabgabwrites · 5 months ago

Text

GREEN EYED PSYCHO | Patrick Bateman

summary ⇝ Patrick wasn’t fond when he found out you were going to Dorsia with Paul, one of his least favourite people ever, so he decided he’d take things into his own hands to scratch that insatiable itch.

warnings ⇝ starts out with Paul like a lot of Paul, language, jealousy drinking, death, murder, gore, blood, literal psychos… reader is kinda ditzy, mdni

based off this ask

dead dove do not eat <- just in case.

please note this fic is triggering, if you cannot handle reading about literal murder happening before your very eyes, then this one isn’t for you! You have been warned.

Paul Allen had invited you to Dorsia, fucking Dorsia for dinner, and Patrick was livid. You and Patrick had a complicated relationship to say the least. You didn't have a label, yet. He was so drawn by your beauty then trapped by your insanity.

Patrick bit down on his bottom lip once you had left to go for this dinner, violent and gruesome thoughts flooded his mind. Yet here you sat, under the twinkling lights of Dorsia, its expensiveness you could barely touch.

Paul sat across from you, a charming smile on his pale, sharp face. He was gorgeous, yes, and he had on a well-tailored and no doubt expensive suit that accentuated his features. It was a dark black with blue undertones, double-breasted as well. His dark brown hair was smoothed back, like a wave of auburn.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said, raising his champagne glass and offering a suave smile.

"Thank you, Paul," you replied, raising your glass before taking a sip. The rich flavors, sweet yet bitter, swirled on your tongue before dipping into your throat.

"You're welcome," he responded smoothly, setting his glass down after drinking. His grey eyes scanned your figure, studying every detail about you. "That dress looks wonderful on you," he complimented. "Who's the designer?"

You batted your eyelashes, a giggle pouring from your lips. "McQueen," you said, your fingers flicking at the lush, pastel blue fabric.

Paul raised his brows slowly, his grey eyes lighting up. "Alexander McQueen?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "That's a fantastic designer. Very expensive as well."

"The one and only," you nodded. "It was a gift."

"From a past boyfriend?" Paul guessed, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips as he glanced down at the table to adjust his suit sleeve.

You shook your head. "Step-mother."

"Oh?" The smirk on Paul's face didn't disappear. In fact, it only grew as he propped his chin up on a fist. "Your step-mother?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone as he raised a brow.

"Yes, Paul, you know. The woman who married my father?"

"Yes, I'm aware of what a stepmother is," he responded with a chuckle. "But it's not very often that you hear of a stepmother buying her stepdaughter pricey gifts like McQueen."

"What can I say? We just have a great bond," you shrugged.

"That's wonderful to hear," he replied, taking another sip of his wine. Paul seemed to be enjoying himself tonight, eyeing you from across the table like a puma ready to pounce on its prey. "Any other designer pieces in your wardrobe?"

"Just a Hermes bag, but that's all for big brand names."

"Ah, Hermes," he leaned back in his booth, crossing his arms as the smirk on his face widened. "Another expensive brand. It seems your wardrobe is worth more than most people's annual salaries."

You snickered at his words. "Paul, may I ask why you invited me out to dinner?"

The smirk disappeared from Paul's face at your question, his face morphing into a look of nonchalance. He took a sip of his wine, setting the empty glass on the table. "I wanted to treat a pretty woman to an expensive dinner," he responded smoothly. "Is that wrong?"

"No, Paul. Not at all," you smiled, just as the waiter came to take your first order.

"Let's see," Paul grabbed the menu. It was made of brown leather and had golden letters etched into it, like an iron-branded pig, just luxurious. "I'll have your finest steak, and seasonal vegetables, and how about a side of the carbs too, and the lady will have the lobster with the hand-cut potato wedges, and a side of greens."

You didn't mind that Paul ordered for you. You just laced your fingers together and rested your chin on them, watching the waiter walk off with the menus.

"So, Paul," you began, trying to pierce through the polished veneer he always presented. "What have you been up to lately?"

He smiled, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Oh, the usual. Business meetings, networking events, a bit of travel here and there. How about you?"

"Not much. Just trying to keep up with life. It's been hectic," you replied.

Paul reached across the table and took your hand, his touch cool and firm. "You deserve a break. Maybe we could take a trip together sometime," he suggested, his voice low and intimate.

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, though you couldn't help but wonder about his true intentions. "That sounds lovely," you said, trying to keep your tone light.

The conversation continued, flowing easily despite the undercurrent of tension. Paul was a master of charm, effortlessly keeping you engaged with stories of his travels and business ventures. Yet, every so often, his eyes would darken, and you could sense something deeper lurking beneath the surface.

The waiter returned with your meals, placing the beautifully plated dishes in front of you. The lobster looked succulent, and the aroma of the steak made your mouth water.

"Bon appétit," Paul said, raising his glass once more.

"To a wonderful evening," you replied, clinking your glass against his.

As you ate, you couldn't shake the feeling that Paul was studying you, assessing your every move. It was both flattering and unnerving. You tried to focus on the delicious food, but your mind kept drifting back to Paul's enigmatic smile and piercing gaze.

Paul watched as you let your head roll back once you took a bite, a small moan left your lips, the lobster was buttery and fell apart in your mouth, it was silky and one of, if not, the best thing you've ever tasted. Your tongue darted out to lick the corner of your mouth, retrieving a small droplet of butter. "This is so..."

"Insufferable," Patrick grumbled, his fingers digging into the couch to fuck the white fabric in. A strand of his hair dangled over his forehead, out of place, imperfect, uncontrolled. That's how Patrick felt, he didn't feel in a lot of control.

He stood up to admire his handiwork, all couches and the floor were covered in white tarp. He fixed his red tie, straightening it, before walking to his kitchen. At the back, he had a display of artillery, each one shiny metal, and silky black.

The potatoes were just as good, crunchy golden and cooked to perfection on the outside, and soft and pillowy on the inside, tasting like garlic and thyme. "Mmm, why hadn't I come here sooner? Pat would love this place," you hummed.

"Pat?"

You blinked your eyes open and stared at Paul. "Yes, as in Patrick."

"Who's Patrick, and Patrick who?"

"Patrick. Patrick Bateman, we're sorta seeing each other," you dabbed the serviette on your bottom lip.

You watched as Paul's bottom teeth scraped the inside of his bottom lip in slight distaste. "And you didn't tell me? You're dating that asshole in my department?" His fingers curled around the polished silver wear.

"I didn't think it would matter, and Patrick's sweet, deep down. Plus, we're not even official."

Paul sighed. Paul's charming smile returned, though it was now tinged with something darker, a subtle edge that hadn't been there before. "I see. Well, I suppose everyone has their secrets," he said, his voice smooth but carrying an undertone of something you couldn’t quite place.

Back in his apartment, Patrick's mood was anything but relaxed. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the sleek, black countertop as he sipped a glass of scotch. The pristine apartment, with its minimalist design and high-end furnishings, felt like a cage tonight. He couldn't shake the image of you at dinner with Paul from his mind.

"Paul Allen," he muttered to himself, his voice low and dangerous. The name tasted bitter on his tongue. Paul was a rival, not just in business, but now in his personal life as well. The thought of you with Paul made his blood boil.

Patrick picked up a sleek, black knife, feeling the weight of it in his hand. The cold metal was comforting, a reminder of his power and control. He envisioned a hundred different ways to make Paul pay for his insolence, each scenario more violent than the last. But he knew he had to be careful, calculated. Paul was well-connected, and any rash actions could bring unwanted attention.

Setting the knife back down, Patrick took a deep breath, trying to calm the raging storm inside him. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get the better of him. Not now. He needed a plan, something that would not only remove Paul from the picture but also solidify his own position.

As he pondered his next move, Patrick's thoughts turned back to you. You were the one bright spot in his otherwise bleak existence, the one person who made him feel something other than anger and emptiness. He couldn't let Paul take you away. He wouldn't.

You felt a flicker of discomfort. Paul's reaction seemed a bit too intense for something as simple as your dating life. Trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground, you asked, "So, tell me more about your recent travels. Anywhere exciting?"

He leaned back, his expression softening slightly. "Actually, I just got back from a business trip in Tokyo. The city is incredible—so vibrant and full of life. I had meetings during the day, but the nights were my own to explore. The food, the culture, the energy—it's all so different from here."

"That sounds amazing. I've always wanted to visit Japan," you said, genuinely interested, hoping to keep the conversation light.

"You should. It's a place like no other," Paul said, his gaze softening as he recounted his experiences. "One night, I found this tiny sushi place off the beaten path. It was the best meal I've ever had. The chef was a master, each piece of sushi a work of art."

"Wow, that sounds incredible," you replied, imagining the scene. "I'd love to experience that."

"Maybe we can go together someday," Paul suggested, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a sincerity in his voice that caught you off guard.

"Maybe," you said, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. Despite his occasional intensity, there was something undeniably magnetic about Paul.

The conversation shifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself relaxing once more. The food, the ambiance, and Paul's charm all worked together to create an unforgettable evening. As you finished your meal, Paul signaled for the waiter and ordered a bottle of their finest dessert wine.

"You've really outdone yourself tonight, Paul," you said, raising your glass in a toast.

"To memorable nights," Paul replied, clinking his glass against yours. "And to more of them in the future."

You smiled, feeling a genuine connection with him despite the undercurrent of mystery that seemed to surround him. As the evening drew to a close, you both stepped out into the cool night air, the bustling sounds of the city wrapping around you.

"Let me walk you to your car," Paul offered, his hand lightly touching the small of your back.

"That would be nice," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch. You walked side by side, the conversation continuing effortlessly. As you reached your car, Paul turned to face you, his eyes intense.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," he said softly, his hand still resting on your back.

"Me too," you replied, your heart racing a little. "Thank you for dinner. It was amazing."

"Let's do this again soon," Paul suggested, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I'd like that," you said, smiling up at him. In the cool night, a vibrant sound cut the silence. Your phone buzzed away in your purse. You fished it out and pressed answer. "Hello?"

"Come to my apartment, now," Patrick demanded, his words were angry and a definite command, but his tone was steady. "Bring Paul."

"May I ask why?"

"You have ten minutes," Patrick hung up on you, leaving you to pout before turning back to Paul.

"Actually, would you mind coming with me?" you asked, gesturing towards your car with a sly smile. Paul, intrigued and slightly aroused by the sudden shift in the evening's tone, smirked back, his eyes glinting with curiosity and something else.

"Oh? Can't get enough of me? Sure, sweet thing, I'll go with you," you gave him a big smile as you unlocked the vehicle. Paul climbed into the passengers side.

It was a seven minute drive, before you pulled up to the fancy apartments. Paul practically cornered you in the elevator, eyes hungry as he stared at you, like a starved lion staring and a lonesome gazelle.

Patrick was no where to be found, the apartment was silent. "How about we sit? Hm?" You asked Paul as you walked over to the couch, throwing your purse on the armrest before sinking into the couch, growing at the slightly scratchy tarp, the floor was also covered, except with old newspapers and magazines.

"What's with the couches? Why are they covered?" Paul asked? Walking over as he took his blazer off, folding it over the couch before sitting down, knees knocking into yours.

"It's a fashion statement, I guess. Whiskey?" You asked, plucking a crystal glass off silver tray that Patrick had on the coffee table. "It's bourbon."

"I prefer Scotch, but yes," you poured him a glass, he took it before taking a sip, rich flavours dancing on his tongue. "It tastes cheap."

"Oh no, no. If there's one thing Patty doesn't like, is cheap alcohol," and suddenly, the drink tasted bitter on Paul's tongue, but he swallowed it down. You lay your head on your hands, your arm resting on the couch as you stared at Paul with a smile.

Paul shook his head, before placing the glass down. He looked at you, blue eyes sweltering, until his breath fanned your face. "You do look beautiful tonight, absolutely breathtaking."

His fingers brushed along the expanse of your thigh. His lips drawing nearer and nearer. Until footsteps were heard from around the house, nearing the two of you. Your lips pulled down in a small frown.

"What is Marcus Halberstram doing here?" Paul asked.

You frowned in confusion before turning to see. However, standing there was Patrick.

Paul had always thought Patrick was Marcus and Marcus was Patrick since they had the same job, dressed the same and went to the same barber.

Patrick was wearing a double breasted black suit, with a red tie neatly tucked into it, a white, mesh rain coat buttoned around his chest. Your eyebrows sunk in confusion as to why the unusual attire and was about to ask, when Patrick started to speak, taking swift strides as he walked over to the wall unit where he had a decent size collection of CDs. "You like Huey Lewis and the News?"

"They're okay," Paul spoke, before downing the rest of his drink and pouring another.

"Their early work was a little too New Wave for my taste. But then Sports came out in 1983, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically."

You watched Patrick ramble, pulling out a disc from a Huey Lewis and the News album and place it delicately in the CD player, 'Hip to be Square' started playing just as Patrick exited.

You turned to Paul, the newspapers under your feet crinkled at your actions. "Why is he here? I thought it was just you and I tonight?" Paul asked.

"I...it's his apartment. I'm sorry, I do hope you'd forgive me," with platonic motives, you placed a hand sweetly on his knee.

Paul chose not to ask why Marcus was in your house when you'd spoken of Patrick, instead he lifted a hand and cradled the smooth skin of your jaw, falling victim to your alluring gaze. "It's alright," his state darkened. "I can think of a few ways to forgive you."

"And how's that?" Your voice was soft and saccharine.

Patrick went to his bathroom and scooped up an axe in his grip. When his eyes settled onto you and Paul, so close together, in what looked like intimate moment, he was furious, anger bubbler under his skin but he plastered on a smile on his tanned skin, his loafers strode against the tiled floor as he swung the axe over his shoulder to rest on the bone.

“Hey, Paul?” Patrick’s voice broke the moment, Paul’s warmth shifted away from yours as he turned to Patrick, sheer horror burst on his features before blood, blood sprayed everywhere as Patrick let out a manic scream.

You shrieked, twisting yourself to get up from the couch. “Patrick! My dress! You’ve ruined my dress!” You gasped, the once pretty, soft blue was stained red, so was your check and a portion of your arm. “You know how hard it is to get blood out?”

Patrick grunted as he let his arms swing the axe into Paul’s limp body once more before chucking it to the side, chest thumping as he let out deep breaths like a savage beast, dressed in a tux. “We’ll get a new one.”

“But Patty, this was a gift from Anne, my step-mother,” you pouted, still frowning at the dirty fabric.

A vice grip found way on your chin, Patrick gripping the bone, forcing you to look at him. An angry storm swirled beneath his brown eyes. “I said we’ll get a fucking new one,” he spat before turning you around to face the very much dead Paul. “Look at him.”

You winced under his hold, staring at the body that still twitched from muscle memory.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Patrick, I didn’t mean—,” you rambled.

“I know,” Patrick sighed before his grip loosened and his arms were around you, your body pressing against his chest as he enveloped you in a hug from behind.

You spun around, no longer caring about the expensive dress and threw your arms around Patrick, a cheery smile spread across your blood coated face. “That was incredibly sexy.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, lifting a hand to your face where his thumb grazed your bottom lip, gathering both the red, slightly purple lipstick from your lips and the bright red blood. “I thought someone with a sick and twisted mind like you would this so.”

You just giggled before planting your lips firm on his, allowing yourself to taste his lips that were always minty, always fresh. You found yourself getting lost in the kiss, both easily forgetting the dead human on the living room floor.

“Mm, I love you, Patty,” you said in the kiss.

“And I love you more, princess,” the kissing slowly died down before you had to help Patrick squeeze Paul into a dustbin bag, holding his hand the whole time he chucked the bag into a dumpster.

“We should do this again!” You squealed.

Patrick let out a breath before looking at you, under the night sky illuminated by a distant street lamp, in the alley. His fingers brushed away some hair on your cheek that clung to the drying blood. “Anything for you.”

#gabgabwrites #my works ✎#patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x female reader #american psycho #American psycho x reader #christian bale

212 notes · View notes

soap-ify · 11 months ago

Text

hold on i got this idea randomly and its like past midnight so yeah... bear with me.

thinking about reader who works at a local cafe, and might be just a little crazy about price who's new to the area, slowly becoming a regular customer of this cafe.

it wasn't as if you weren’t freakily obsessed with him or anything. you were just too infatuated with him, having memorised his order by heart, memorised the way his eyes would crinkle in delight whenever he’d find out that you already had his tea all prepared, nice and warm — just the way he likes it. wait, how did you know he was going to come at this exact same time?

you couldn’t help it. he was a walking distraction — always sitting at the far edge table in the cafe, absorbed in some paperwork or just simply staring out of the window, looking so unreal. you needed to read him, learn everything about him, learn all of his schedule and stuff.

you’d accidentally forget to add a thing or two in his orders sometimes. he ordered a cookie? oops, you forgot it. but it’s okay, you wanted him to approach you and start a conversation, even if it's over some missed cookie.

sometimes he’d have a woman next to him, discussing some stuff very quietly, making it quite obvious that it was over whatever their job was given how he always handed her those papers.

you had to be rational, you had to. but how could you when he was always smiling so brightly at her? especially when she herself was so pretty. were you really getting insecure during your shift? yeah.

you couldn’t start a ruckus here by doing something impulsive, but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t tempted to.

you were too nervous to start a conversation on your own too. not even a proper “how’s your day going?”

your obsession stuck with you staring at him throughout your work shift as long as he was there, carefully looking at the watch on his wrist and the case of his phone, figuring out all the brands in your head.

you had even figured out what perfume he wore during one encounter when you caught a whiff of his cologne — not strong and quite masculine. it suited him so much. you remember spending an hour in the male perfume section in a local store that day.

and oh, price knew all of it. he wasn’t stupid. he was too smart in fact, always feeling your scrutinising and curious gaze on him, filled with an odd longing. he had noticed the way your hands would accidentally brush against his sometimes when giving him his order, the way you would shyly hand him some extra stuff for free sometimes.

heck, he even noticed the way you gave him one of your napkins once, saying that he might need it. what were you even trying to do, claim him? yeah, that was your little way of leaving something of yours to him.

you’d feel sick sometimes, all head over heels over just a regular customer, writing letters and letters over him, simply rambling about how nice his voice was and how warm he seemed, just wanting those strong hairy arms of his to cradle you against him. sometimes you’d also just write about all the interactions you had with him. your favourite memory was when he first told you his name, resulting in you squealing into your pillow the whole night happily. john.

of course, you were never going to send these letters to him.

unbeknownst to you, price was always staring at you too whenever you were distracted by some other customers, his fingers lightly rubbing against his beard. who knew a sweet thing like you could be so... eager? you were like some desperate starved puppy to needy for something, anything.

and maybe he needed to do something about it. he might even dig some information of you through some people, who knows? maybe keep you all to himself.

#struggling to form words but you guys get what my vision is here right!!#silly reader... and even sillier price.#price x reader #john price x reader #price mw2 #john price #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic

382 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 5 months ago

Note

Soulmates with Peter Parker? 🥺💕

.⋆｡Arachnophobia｡⋆.

Peter Parker x plus size reader

Who knew that moving to New York could be just the kick the universe needed to fulfil your destiny?

Warnings: fluff, soulmate AU, explosions WC: 876

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

6k Celebration Bingo

Well this spider doesn’t hate you.

Those were the words that appeared along your collarbone the day you turned 18. The black lettering was just barely visible when you awoke that morning but by lunch time, all of your friends were poking fun at the strange phrase now permanently branded into your skin. You glared at them as you told them to back off and that you at least had an interesting soulmate if their first words to you were as strange as that.

But a nagging part of your mind wondered if they were right, if the person that burned with the same flame as you did was some kind of weirdo. As the months went on, you imagined countless scenarios where those six words would be uttered to you. Maybe at a frat costume party where they would be dressed like a spider. Or they were your next door neighbour and they saved you from a stray arachnid that had made a home in your kitchen. Or maybe they were just really into spiders in general. Needless to say, your obsession with your soulmate's words had slowly developed an aversion to the insects, going completely out of your way to avoid them just in case your soulmate was a weirdo like your friends had predicted.

Three years after you finally escaped the social wormhole of high school, you moved to New York City. With a scholarship under your belt and dreams of going to a college that could handle more than 300 students, you moved into a tiny dorm right at the edge of Columbia’s campus. You were excited to chase your dream but first- you needed groceries.

With headphones fitted tightly against your ears, the deafening sounds of the city blurred around you. You weren’t really sure exactly where you were going but it was early afternoon and your phone was fully charged, so what was the harm in wandering for a while.

New York City opened up before you, the skyline glittered with thousands of windows and bright lights capturing your gaze no matter where you turned. It was all so exciting and rather distracting. You were ignorant to the commotion building behind you, until a strange heat licked at the back of your neck.

In a second, your world went completely upside down, literally. The only warning you received before the wind was knocked from your lungs was the blast of some sort of explosion and then, the world zipped by you. Someone had a firm hold on your thick waist as dots of light swirled around you. You clung to them, your head spinning as they lifted you higher and higher, until it all suddenly stopped.

Gravel crunched under your shoes as you stumbled forwards. A hand curled around your wrist, keeping you upright. You crashed into his strong chest. Your eyes slowly came into focus as the ringing in your ears faded. Sirens filled the air yet all you could think about was the insignia of a spider splayed across the red suit right in front of you.

“God I hate spiders.” The white eyes of his mask widened comically as you heard his breath stutter. His grip on your waist tightened for just a second.

“Well this spider doesn’t hate you.” The world stilled in that moment. You leaned back just enough to look into his eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did I, I mean I am Spider-MAN and you hate spiders.” Heat crawled up your cheeks while you bashfully glanced away but quickly looked at him as he laughed. Something deep in your chest came to life with his laugh, quickly spreading through your veins and making your heart flutter with a whole new emotion.

His gloved hands slipped down to the small of your back. You could feel the way his body shook with adrenaline, just the same as yours was. “Maybe I don’t hate this spider.”

“I could be venomous.” You shrugged, your fingers slowly creeping up the expanse of his torso, feeling the toned muscle that lay just beneath his suit.

“As long as you don’t bite, I think we’ll be ok.” His mask scrunched up where you imagined his lips would be.

“I-“ Another explosion rocked the building beneath your feet. He tore his gaze away from you. He sighed heavily and reluctantly took a step back. “I have to go.”

Your touch lingered on him for as long as you could, almost fearful that he would completely vanish the second you let him go. “I know.” The tips of his fingers brushed against the swell of your hips.

“I’ll come back, I swear.” His voice cracked.

“Go save the world Spidey and I’ll let you take me on a date.” And with a gentle kiss to his masked cheek, you fully broke away from the other half of your soul.

He jumped onto the ledge of the building you stood atop of. “Just so long as there’s plenty of flies for me to eat.” And as he swung away, your laughter still ringing in his ears, Peter was suddenly glad that there was one person in the world who hated spiders.

Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @Faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria

Marvel

@andreasworlsboring101 @harleycao @annhells @cruelladejill @lokiandbuckysdoll @pretty-npeach @cakesandtom @beautyb1ade @queer_poncho @everything-is-awesomesauce @bitchy-bi-trash @hc-geralt-23 @wisteriia222 @certifiedhunter @relatednative

#6000 follower celebration #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x f!reader #peter x reader #peter x you #peter x y/n #peter x plus size reader #peter x female reader #peter x fem!reader #peter x f!reader #plus size reader #female reader #anon #inbox

249 notes · View notes

ssinboo · 3 months ago

Text

It's Always been Us

summary: After your unplanned confession, you avoid Seungkwan until an unexpected issue brings you to contact him. When you finally get in touch, secrets are revealed.

Part 3 of As it Was

pairing: Middle School Teacher! Reader x Entertainer!Seungkwan

word count: 16.5k (1h~ read)

warnings: miscommunication, mentions of past trouble, unprotected sex, background character cheating, creampie, body worship, dry humping, minor mentions of exhibitionism, so many spicy scenes.

A/N: AND IT'S OVER!!!! thank you so much, everyone!

“This is Boo Seungkwan, I’m not available right now, leave a message after the beep.”

Beep.

“Hey— Uh, I know we haven’t spoken in a while but— Can you please call me back?”

Beep.

“Seungkwan. Look. I— I know I suck, but can you, please, just call me back?”

Beep.

“Hey, It’s me again… I haven’t heard anything from you… Is everything OK? Please, call me.”

Beep.

“Look— I know it was wrong of me to give you the cold shoulder, but this is serious, I mean it— You need to call me back.

Beep.

“I’m sorry— Look, I— Can you please, just call me? I really need to talk to you.”

Fresh-faced and well-groomed, Seungkwan exhales wealth as he trudges through the crowded streets he grew up in. A far-cry from his fresh-faced youth, he attracts curious look standing in an expensive, tailored suit draped over his slender figure, with matching accessories and a trusty pair of branded sunglasses.

Usually, he’d stop at his mum’s, bother his sisters and nephews for a bit, deliver gifts and stories of his big-city living. But today, your house is the first stop in his itinerary and, if everything goes right, it might just be the last for today.

Knocking on the door, he adjusts himself, fixing his blazer and hair. His heart pounds incessantly against his ribs and his clammy palms are wiped against his trousers in the hopes of lessening nervousness. In his breast pocket, there is a small velvet box that lays heavier than its real weight ever could.

The door swings open, prompting him to put on his nicest smile, only to be met with his second sister’s unsightly frown, she assesses his posture.

“Ah, you’re here,” She announces in a flat voice, no excitement whatsover. Usually, he would make hell over anything, but today, he has pressing matters at hand. He had mentioned in passing he would be flying home soon, but his sister’s presence in your home still remained unexplained — not that he cared, right now.

“Is— Is she here?” Gesturing inside, Seungkwan stumbles over his words. His sister nods and steps aside, allowing him to finally cross the threshold of your place, somewhere in the other room, he can hear your soft footsteps and clumsy banging of pots and pans; his heart races faster.

“Why are you here?” He finally asks,

Unbothered, she replies with a deep sigh, “So she wouldn’t run away before you got here.”

“Who’s at the door?”

It’s your voice he hears, always sweeter than he remembered. The moment it touches his ears, his throat closes up like it never has before. He stretches his neck and inhales all the courage he muster up.

“Someone you hate,” His sister jokes, immediately reaching for her bag and keys.

“What?” He can hear you question, pitter-patter of bare feet closer and closer. He almost turns around to stop his sister from leaving, suddenly overwhelmed with his nerves.

That is until he sees you.

“Seungkwan?” It comes out as a whisper, you doubt your own eyes but the name flows naturally past your tongue.

Seungkwan freezes in place, the bouquet in his hand — your favourite flowers, — slip from his grasp and meet an undeserving fate on the ground.

Had it been anyone else, the bump protruding against your loose tee would’ve remained unseen; uncared for. But Seungkwan knew your body inside and out, he knew every nook and cranny, every beauty spot and scar. Countless nights were spent ravishing your very essence over and over, learning and teaching you about yourself.

Okay, maybe you had gained a little weight, he wasn’t one to judge, not when you looked absolutely stunning — Though he did seem biased. But you cradled that bump with so much care, it couldn’t be anything else.

Eyes widened in sheer terror, you immediately remove your hands from your stomach, sending them flying behind your back in shame. But it’s too late.

He knows the truth.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” His sister announces much to your disdain. Before you can protest, she just grabs her things and leaves.

There’s silence.

Unnerving, immovable, silence that wraps its cold tendrils around your throat, squeezing tighter and tighter with every passing second.

Looking at his face resurfaces plenty emotions; rage, relief, hatred, confusion, but there is so much love still; you realise, that despite it all, there is still love. Seems you are really cursed to love him.

Seungkwan is similarly shell shocked, though for different reasons. Beautiful hands hanging by his side, those gorgeous lips you love so much are agape as he stares at you: betrayed.

“Are you…?”

The question trails off and it hangs awkwardly in the couple feet between you, every syllable stumbling to the ground. He doesn’t need to finish it, you both know what he’s talking about.

You nod.

“Is it—“ He gulps, swallowing down the excruciating thought that perhaps you had found someone else. “Is it mine?”

Offended, you scoff, holding back the rage that sits at your tongue. You nod.

You were pregnant with his child.

He almost lets out a sigh of relief, releasing a breath he never realised was held. And then his eyes glaze over with unshed tears: hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s a broken up whisper, cradled in pain and betrayal and it disappears in the air, small and so, so tender.

For a split second, you feel guilty. Looking at his glossy eyes that shine so beautifully, you’re overcome with an overwhelming urge to comfort him. But you are met with the rest of your unaddressed emotions. The ungodly amount of rage you have been shoving down every time you think about him.

“Didn’t tell you?!” Your voice trembles as you raise your tone, finally pouring out everything, “Seungkwan, I fucking called you for a month— I messaged you, I called you— I did everything!” You take a step forward, fingers tightly woven into a fist, fingernails painfully digging into your palms, “You didn’t call me back. You never did! You threw me away.”

Your words are painful. Not to you as much as it is to him. You feel some relief, finally getting closure.

But Seungkwan is floored, every words hanging heavy on the pit of his stomach, coercing acid but never allowing themselves to be fully digested; no. They hang around past their welcome, scratching at his insides until they are a bright shade of inflamed red.

You think he threw you away. How could you think that? After you left just like that and never called ba— Oh.

It’s only then, realisation settles like a bucket of ice cold water poured over your back. Seungkwan runs his fingers over his face with a quiet whisper of “Shit…”

“Yeah. Shit.” You cross your arms over your chest, in the hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“No— Look—, Do you remember my PR manager?”

Still somewhat angry, you side-eye him, “Yeah, she fucking hates me.”

“Turns out she hated me, too,” He says, taking a step to close the distance between you, “It’s a long story— I fired her and she retaliated, got rid of my phone, laptop, locked me out of my social media accounts, I just got access to my accounts this week, but my phone is gone.”

Your eyes soften with the soft threading of hope. You want to believe him, to know it wasn’t on purpose, to know you hadn’t been abandoned. A part of your wants to grasp at any explanation, just take it without questioning. Anything is better than being thrown aside.

But you have grown to realise over the years that although the pain is unbearable, tomorrow still comes.

You were owed an explanation. A true, believable reason for everything you went through after all the missed calls and radio-silence.

For once, you needed him to be there.

A year ago, you would’ve been content with your situationship, but now you’ve got someone else to care for. A little someone that will need stability.

“I begged you to call me. You never did.” Your voice is so broken by the pain, he wants to pick up the pieces and softly put them back together. There’s an emotion that hurts him more than your pain: Acceptance.

You would be okay with his absence.

Oh, he wouldn’t manage. The very thought of it drove him insane.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll do anything,” He brings his hands together, eyebrows furrowed together.

You just look at him, unsure how to proceed. How to process all the emotions that hadn’t even been acknowledged until a minute ago.

With a heavy sigh, you close your eyes. “Have you eaten?”

Seungkwan smiles, beautiful eyes bathed in hope, in adoration, “I haven’t.”

“I’ll fix you up something.”

It’s weird, sitting in your kitchen, awkwardly fidgeting with his suit while you bang pots and pans, heating up leftovers from lunch. His plan has gone to absolute shit and he’d just found out somewhat accidentally about his own future.

Seungkwan stands up in search of cutlery to set the table with, something to do with himself. He smiles at the fact that everything remains in the same place since last time he’d been here.

You turn off the knobs on your stove and turn around to find a silicone mat lest you burn your table; it was good, solid, oak and you took great care of it. Your cooking smells good, it always does.

You’re the first to sit down, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. He follows shortly after, making no ceremony of filling up his plate.

“When did you lose your phone?” You break the silence, chewing on your lower lip; Your eyes refuse to meet his.

Half-bite, he answers, “I think like a month after we saw each other?”

“Why didn’t you contact me before today?” Your voice cracks, you wish it hadn’t. You wish you had composure when standing before the man you love.

Seungkwan sighs, putting down his plate, debating on telling you the truth or white lies. The reason he avoided contact was simple; he wanted to be better, to be fully better, before seeing you again. No messes for you to clean, he wanted to be someone worthy.

“I— I wasn’t sure…” It’s a half-truth.

“Sure of what?” You finally look at him, trembling hands clasped together over your lap.

He dodges any eye contact, pulling at his eggs with the chopsticks. Seeing your expression would be enough to destroy any courage left, “What could I have said?” It’s the truth.

“Anything!” You raise your voice, slamming your hands against the table, which you immediately regret once the pain travels over your aching palms.

It’s enough to get a reaction out of him. His brows furrow, and with a scoff, he lets his chopsticks fall onto his plate, “What?! After you left like that? You didn’t even say goodbye— You just—“ He stops himself, gulping down any resentment.

You’re caught.

The subject you evaded like the devil from the cross comes back to bite.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” You look away, chest heaving under your nerves.

Seungkwan softens his voice, trying a different approach, “We have to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to!” He can see how much you’re shaking, clasping your hands together in the hopes he won’t notice. So he leaves the subject alone, despite its persistence on eating him up from the inside.

Suddenly taken by hunger, you huff, grabbing a bowl and stuffing your face.

Against his better judgement, he smiles, watching your cheeks round around your mouthful of food.

“What?” You ask accusingly.

“Nothing,” Seungkwan shakes his head with a soft smile plastered over his pretty lips. He clears his throat before asking. “When did you find out about it?”

It’s first time either of you acknowledge the situation since earlier.

“A month ago.”

He sighs. Trying his best to imagine how desperate and utterly abandoned you must’ve felt.

“Do you know what is it?”

You shrug, shaking your head

“Do you—“ He tries his best to gather words that will communicate his thoughts, “Do you want it?”

Your neck snaps toward him, cheeks round with food as you glare. “Stop saying ‘it’.”

“Sorry—“ He corrects himself, “Do you want the baby?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

It’s weird how relieved he feels, if anyone had asked him a week ago how he felt about becoming a father he’d say no. But it’s a tempting scenario. A luring future of white picket fence and a couple of kids who looked like you.

But terrifying all at the same time.

You chew on your lip, playing with the tablecloth, “Do— Do you?”

Seungkwan looks up from his plate, surprised.

Your eyes are so intent on him, his every expression. You hadn’t held much hope since the unanswered calls, but this sudden visit, the fact that for once, he is here. It toys with your emotions, dangles your every dream in front your very eyes.

“It’s your choice…” He whispers.

Not satisfied, you press further. “Do you want to be a father?”

It’s a slap to the face, a forceful acknowledgement of the situation and his own feelings toward it. Did he actually want this?

It was a known fact that more often than not, denying fatherhood came easy for men; Say you don’t want to be a part of it, sign away your rights and fuck off to live your life unbothered.

Despite the choice being there, Seungkwan couldn’t fathom even considering leaving everything behind. A whole life created between the two of you with the perfect mix of your features. The word ‘Fatherhood’ felt too heavy on his tongue.

“…Yes.” Seungkwan answers, surprising not only you but himself, as well. “Yes, I want to be a father and— I want to be a part of the baby’s life… Will you let me?”

But he wanted it all. Sleepless nights, stinky diapers, colic, teething. He wanted to be a part of this child’s life.

He anxiously awaits your response to his confession, watches how your eyes widen, glossy with the imminent threat of stubborn tears and how your lips wobble.

You smile, relived, nodding.

Since your failed attempts to communicate with Seungkwan, you had somewhat given up on having the father of your child be present; Especially with how avoidant of commitment he always presented himself to be.

Ever since he left for the big city, Seungkwan always brushed off relationships as flings, never lived in one place too long, failed to settle down anywhere. It’s hard, believing his words.

But you’re nothing if not a fool for him.

Seungkwan smiles. Standing up, letting the chair bounce with the sudden movement, he kneels on the tiled floor in front of you.

His hands, his long, slender fingers find your own, enveloping your palms in his unending warmth. His touch is so delicate, yet so comforting. You didn’t even realise just how much you’ve missed holding his stupid pretty hands.

Blame it on the hormones how you completely break down into an ugly, crying, mess and fold onto his shoulders.

Without a word, he comforts you with soft pats until your sobbing ceases into soft sighs. Though, his legs might give up any time now from kneeling on kitchen tile.

“Let’s get married,” He whispers and as soon as the words leave his lips, his heart skips the next couple of beats in anticipation.

“What?” Hoarsely, you sniffle, raising your head to face him.

“Let’s get married, move to Seoul… Let’s raise the baby together.” There’s a dumbfounded smile plaguing his face, he can only imagine how happy you will be to know that he’s finally ready to be in a true, loving relationship.

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No.”

You watch his smile crack and shatter, he watches you face for any sign of jest, hoping you’d break into a smile and say “just kidding”. But you don’t. And you seem just as confused as he is.

You said you loved him.

Had you feelings changed in the matter of the three months you hadn’t talked? Was he not good enough?

He couldn’t understand why would you refuse his proposal.

“What?” Finally, his knees give up on him, wobbling until he falls to his butt, sitting on the cool tiled floor, though it seems almost warm compared to the coldness that washes over the pit of his stomach. “Why not?”

Your eyes don’t meet him, you wipe your nose and face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I— I don’t understand why— Why you’re asking me that—“ You stumble over your words.

“We’re having a baby! It’s the obvious next step!” Seungkwan exclaims, as a matter of fact.

“No?” You shrug, “I’m not marrying you because you knocked me up!”

“Why not?!”

“People should marry out of love!” You explain, “Not just have a shotgun wedding, it never works out—! I don’t wanna be the girl you married because of the birth control fail rate!”

“Don’t you love me?”

His voice is such a broken whisper, so quiet and soft, almost as if accidental.

Your eyes finally meet his and your throat hurts with weight of the three letter confession, but you gulp it down, hoping your stomach acid will dissolve your unrequited feelings.

“Not enough to put my child through a loveless marriage.”

He stands up on shaky legs, wiping his hands on his jeans. Eyes refusing to meet yours lest he shed a single tear.

No, he wouldn’t cry, not in front of you.

Wiping his hands across his face, he lets out a heavy sigh and the very sound of the aftermath of such a heated discussion is enough to bring you to tears. Part of him aches to comfort you, to wrap his arms around your body and nuzzle against your neck. His hands itch to reach and hold you until your tears are gone, to whisper sorry over and over, until you take him back. But his pride boils his blood hotter than any wish of affection could.

“I’ll be at my mum’s.”

It’s all he says before he leaves and once the front door slams shut with a deafening ‘Bang’, you crumble to the cold floor, quietly sobbing into your hands.

It’s well past midnight by the time Seungkwan hears a somewhat familiar ‘thud’ on his window pane. The moon stands proud in the darkened sky, illuminating his childhood bedroom. He crawls out of bed, already missing the warmth of his duvet, and approaches the source of the noise with some caution, expecting an animal.

But once he pulls up the frosty glass, he sees you standing on his backyard, rocking back and forth on your feet, a large jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

Once you spot him, you flash a wide smile, lifting the one hand that doesn’t hold a dangerously large rock to wave.

Confused at your reasoning to be here, Seungkwan gestures wildly at his non-existent wristwatch. You just flip him off with a roll of your eyes and gesture for him to meet you at the door.

He scrambles to find his coat and not wake up his mother, a flashback of his teenage years.

How many times did you throw rocks at his window in the middle of the night or vice-versa. He always complained about how you were such a ‘bad influence’ but never once refused to meet you past midnight. You’d sneak out and fool around while the Sun was still down. And he would quietly sneak back in just as the Sun started to peak from the horizon.

Once the front door is safely shut and he’s sure that his mother isn’t up from the ruckus. He immediately turns to you.

“What the hell are you thinking?! It’s freezing out here!” He whisper-yells, wrapping the spare coat around your shoulders and throwing the scarf onto your face.

It smells strongly of his cologne; You inhale, letting the scent surround your lungs and flow through your veins, fill your bloodstream with his essence.

“I’m really craving convenience store food,” You speak out so meekly, your eyes hazy with sleep and nose tingling in the cold night air. Any other strong words he had conjured walking downstairs die on his tongue at the sight of your soft smile.

“You’re paying,” It’s a truce.

You smile excitedly, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

That convenience store just a street down from his childhood home had been the set for many his teenage adventures. Every poorly kept wall and crack in the concrete held cherished memories of your youth. The food hadn’t changed in the decades passed, yet it still beat any three-star restaurant he made a show of dining in.

You fill the basket with junk food, happily swaying back and forth under the blinking fluorescents. Seungkwan scoffs at your happiness over instant-noodles.

He pays and you grab your things, finding a place to sit while he prepares the noodles.

You’re snacking on chips when he returns with the noodles, practically throwing them down on the counter before he blows at his fingertips. You giggle at his misfortune.

“Should we talk?” You ask, chowing down on your food, moaning at its divine taste.

Seungkwan tuts at your happiness. He’d taken you to expensive restaurants before, wined and dined you into five-star hotels. But somehow, these soggy noodles tasted better than anything else.

“It’s fine,” He says.

You hum.

He notices how you cradle your bump when you eat.

You did it earlier, too, when he was at your place.

“Is the baby happy?” He asks, eyes focused on his food.

You break into a wide smile, “Mhm, very happy.”

You’re unable to see his face, but you see his cheeks rounded into a gorgeous smile.

Suddenly, seeming to remember something, you hum. “I had to give you this,” You speak with your mouth full which causes Seungkwan to scowl with a disgusted face.

He watches you fumble with your jacket pocket until you pull out a crumbled, tiny, piece of paper. You hand it to him.

It’s a sonogram.

A blurry, black and white, mess of pixels that he can’t help but be weirdly attached to immediately.

There’s such a warm smile on your face when you lean onto his shoulder, pointing at the picture.

“Here’s the little feet… Here’s the head…”

Unknowingly, he reaches his pointer finger to touch that teeny tiny blurry head.

“It’s a shitty photo,” His voice cracks and he doesn’t hide it well.

You’re giggling, and it’s a comforting, lovely sound, “It’s not so bad.”

“Do you think they’ll look like me?” He asks in a quiet whisper filled with wonder.

“Oh, I hope not, the poor thing,” You tease, earning an annoyed hiss.

“They’d be lucky when the other option is looking like you,” Laughing at his quip, you lean over his shoulder, daydreaming about the looks of your baby.

Leaving the convenience store, you munch on a corn dog, swaying your hands in the breeze. The next stop comes naturally, the nearby playground where you spent most of your nightly escapades during your teenage years.

“What do you think it’s gonna be?” He asks, taking one of the unoccupied swings.

You follow suit, sitting on swing. “I don’t know,”with a shrug, you return his question, “What do you think?”

“I haven’t thought about it…”

Humming, you focus on your corndog. “I might find out next appointment, if the baby doesn’t decide to close their little legs.”

He perks up so adorably, “When is your next appointment?”

“Next week,” You reply and he quietly ponders just how will he manage to sneak in. “You’re gonna be there, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Seungkwan says nonchalantly, but hides a beaming smile behind his right hand.

There’s a couple minutes of silence, though you don’t feel compelled to speak. You just sit there, rocking back and forth and enjoying this peaceful moment.

“How far along are you?” It’s a shy question, one he thinks he should’ve known, as the father.

“Sixteen weeks,” it’s such an automatic answer you don’t even question it until you can hear his soft murmurs as he counts on his fingers just how many months that is.

“Four months?”

“Mhm,” You reply, taking the last bite of your snack.

“Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, bigger?”

You laugh, “I just started showing last week.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean, you could feel my stomach was more rigid than flabby but at a glance no one could tell.”

“Does it feel hard?"

“A bit?” You stand up and walk to where he’s sitting, “Here, feel it.” Seungkwan puts his feet down, ceasing any movement from the swing and wraps his hands around your bump. It’s weird, having someone touch your stomach. In fact, aside from your doctor, he was the first to do so.

You watch him look at your belly like it were his everything; his caramel eyes hold so much adoration. There’s stubborn hope that burns in your heart that, maybe, if you have him by your side, everything will be okay.

On the day of your appointment, Seungkwan accompanies you to the clinic, rushed whispers and fake stories told to his mother about his whereabouts. If it were up to him, he’d announce it to the world but you still feared that his fear of commitment would rear its ugly head and you would end up alone once again.

You’d messaged the receptionist, asking for some discretion during your appointment, however, you did notice some whispering coming from the nurses about TV comedian Boo Seungkwan’s appearance at an OB-GYN clinic.

He is annoyingly lovely, reassuring you over and over that it’s okay, he’s told his manager about it and things will be handled. Which in hindsight is somewhat terrifying that his manager knows about your pregnancy before the baby’s own grandparents.

Called into the office and free from the judgement-heavy waiting room, you rush inside, shedding your cardigan and laying on the bed. You’re practically a pro at this while Seungkwan struggles with the best ways how to hold your purse and coat.

He even looks surprised at how brazenly you unbutton your trousers and pull them out of the way.

Your doctor, a lovely middle-aged lady and mother of one of your students, is very glad to see you and quite puzzled at Seungkwan’s presence. She, however, is more than willing to explain the process and answer his every question, no matter how stupid or how many times he’s asked it in the past half hour.

“Everything alright?” She asks, spreading the cold gel along your skin. You never did get used to that goopy, gross feeling.

You nod and she turns on the large monitor sitting above the bed. Seungkwan stands almost a foot away from the bed, clinging to your belongings, sneakily rearing his head toward the monitor.

“This is the head,” She announces, holding the image still as she takes a screenshot for later. “Development is looking nice, mum.” She smiles before correcting herself, “…And dad.”

You giggle at how weird it sounds to be referred to as a parent just yet.

It’s not long before the room is filled with that muffled thump-thump sound you’d recorded and played over and over the past couple of months.

Seungkwan worriedly looks at you.

You smile at his dumbfounded, worried expression.

“That’s their heartbeat,” She tells Seungkwan, still enjoying the amazement of first-time parents even after so many years.

“Come closer,” You urge.

And he does so, standing by your side and staring up at that big monitor, watching the blurry grey blob move around. That muffled, almost wet sounding constant thump seems to make his own heart pound faster.

Seungkwan had somewhat come to term about being a parent; keyword being somewhat. It’s something to be told about it, even seeing the pregnancy tests you held onto as a keepsake. But hearing this baby’s beating heart, seeing them move around in that screen, it felt so tangible.

And a lot scarier, too.

“Heartbeat is nice and steady,” You smile at her announcement.

You glance at Seungkwan, who promptly hides his face, shaking away the stubborn tears that threaten to be shed. Fuck these hormones, they’re the ones to blame at how emotional that scene made you.

“Seems like baby is cooperating today,” The doctor comments and you laugh, “Wanna find out the gender?”

Biting at your lips, you glance at Seungkwan. It’s the first time you’ve included him during this visit. And it’s his first time giving his opinion on such an important matter.

“Do you want to?” He returns the question.

“Your sister said I should have a party,” You grimace thinking about parading around and having people all over you.

He shrugs, “We could… But do you want to?”

“I don’t know?!”

“We can tell a trusted family member or we can wait until you are ready to find out, it will be on your chart, so when you’re ready, just give us a call.” The doctor explains, hoping it will make your choice easier.

Once again, you glance at him.

“It’s your choice,” He says.

“But what do you want?”

He thinks. “It’d be nice to have a get-together with the family, we can have a barbecue, nothing too fancy.”

When he put it like that, it sounded so tempting but maybe you were just hungry.

“I’d like to have a family member know, please,” You tell the doctor.

She smiles, “Alright, I can give you an envelope with the results, is that okay?”

You nod.

The rest of the appointment goes smoothly. Your stomach is growling so loudly you don’t even bother asking Seungkwan if he wants a ride home, you just drag him to your car and drive off to the nearest restaurant. Not that he has any complaints — He’s worked quite the appetite and many questions need answers.

You’re seated rather quickly and given menus.

“What do you want to eat? My treat,” It’s a sort of apology for dragging him out here.

Seungkwan looks at the menu, “I think I’ll take the carbonara,” He hums, “Wait, do you have any food that will make you throw up?”

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

“In the movies you know someone is pregnant because they run out of the room to throw up.”

Oh, he’s 100% serious about this and you push down the part of you that finds it adorable.

You laugh, “No, I don’t. That’s usually on the first trimester… I actually didn’t get very nauseous, just very hungry.”

He hums in understatement. “Are you sure that was the baby and not just you?”

You ball up a napkin and throw at him.

Once the order is placed, the waiter leaves and you’re both left at the booth flipping through your respective phones.

“Do you think your sister can help us with the gender reveal?” You ask, finally putting your phone down.

“Yeah,” He nods, “When are you thinking?”

“I don’t know… I’ll start really showing soon, I want the cat out of the bag.”

The waiter returns with your drinks.

“Have you told your mum?” You ask, thinking that it should be okay. It’s only his family, they should know.

Seungkwan smiles. “Not yet…”

“She can’t find out at the party. You need to tell her beforehand.”

“I got it.”

“That reminds me, my family kind of doesn’t know you’re a part of it now…” You approach the subject quietly. “They may or may not hate your guts for not being here for me.”

He stares at you, dumbfounded until he breaks out into laughter.

“Goddammit.”

“What?! It’s not my fault!” You defend yourself, using the straw to toy with the floating ice cubes swimming in your orange juice.

“You could’ve told them!”

With a sigh, you admit defeat. “I’ll tell my family when you tell your mum.”

He’s fully ready to counterattack your jabs but is interrupted by the food, much to your pleasure.

You practically devour your food and leave no room for dessert, instead opting to buy something sweet after you’ve digested your lunch – you found your baby had a sweet tooth and you always craved a little sugary treat. You pay for the food and Seungkwan drives you home to plan a party.

Seungkwan’s sisters had been a Godsend. They helped with every step of the way and planned the entire gender reveal party — Which wasn’t as much of a party as it was a family barbecue.

All you needed to do was just show up and cut up the cake to reveal the gender of your baby.

You just started to really show, a protruding round little bump that poked its way through your every clothing, no matter how baggy. Seungkwan was the first to point out just how evident it became.

The guests wore a mix of pink and blue. You wearing blue yourself, a very strong believer that your midnight kicker is a little boy.

Meanwhile, the baby’s father completely disagrees, sporting his baby pink button-up.

Seungkwan hovers around you the whole day, a pleasant surprise. You’d been nervous about putting the news out there. Despite it making its way through the grapevine and rumours floating through the spaces you frequented, no one was really sure. It was finally time to rip out the band-aid and make the news public.

Though you insisted he hung a bit farther lest people he realise about the paternity, he showed no intents of doing so. He waited on you hand and foot, bringing as many cupcakes as your little bean wished for. It seemed that the past weeks spent together had given Seungkwan an awakened sixth sense, he could always guess what your baby craved and was more than willing to fetch the item, no matter how gross.

When it was finally time to cut the cake and find out, he was insistent on being at your side, guiding your knife-cradling hand — Part of it just pushing it away from himself. You did warn him about family posting it online and the fact that this could blow out of proportion, but he just reassured you again and again.

Most of the family has their phones out, recording the moment with bated breath. You can barely breathe yourself.

The knife slides in, cutting through soft icing.

You close your eyes, relying completely on Seungkwan to guide you. The knife comes back up and goes back in for the second cut.

Seungkwan hands you the spatula and helps you lift the cake slice up and into the vision of everyone around.

The spectators burst into cheer.

You still haven’t got half a mind to look down.

“A baby girl,” He whispers into your ear and your eyes flash open.

Putting the cake down before you fling off the yard, you immediately throw yourself onto his arms, a choked sob escaping your lips, “We’re having a girl!”

He kisses your hair and hides his red face from the camera, not willing to have his teary-eyed expression so eternal.

Once the adrenaline slows down, you tear your way through the cake, sitting far away from the commotion. Seungkwan is at your side, an arm resting behind you.

“Congrats!”

The male voice almost isn’t enough to tear away the undivided attention you’ve been giving to your piece of cake, but Seungkwan’s bewildered expression piques your interest.

You look up from your plate.

And there he is; Kwon Soonyoung, a high-school buddy of yours. He was a rowdy kid, fun to party with but not much else. He had a hard time knowing when to quit. You wonder just why he had been invited until you remember his mum is your mum’s neighbour.

“Thanks,” You hum, still occupied with your food.

“A baby, huh?”

“Yup.”

“You never mentioned anything about getting married in the reunion… I was surprised,” He beats around the bush, raising a curious eyebrow. Seungkwan scoffs at his very obvious actions.

“I’m not married,” You reply, not really paying attention.

He lifts an eyebrow, “Must have your hands full, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Soonyoung clears his throat.

“How far along are you?”

“Twenty weeks.”

Seungkwan watches him count on his fingers. You poke Seungkwan and nudge at his arm with your empty plastic plate, which you had done about twice this afternoon. He sighs and rolls his eyes, but gets up regardless.

“Wow, that’s really far along…”

You nod, no longer having your food to be entertained with.

“C-Can I feel it?”

God, you hate that question. But at least he asked instead of just shoving his grimy hands on your stomach. He’s lucky you’re in a good mood, you’ve had old ladies patting your growing belly all day, what’s another one? It was a special occasion.

“Sure.”

Soonyoung is very amazed, he keeps ooh’in and aah’ing, rubbing your bump over the fabric of your shirt for a bit too long. Usually old ladies would just touch your belly, feel your baby kick and make a comment or two on how healthy your child will be.

Seems like your baby girl is having none of it, either since she has seized any and all movement since Soonyoung approached. You don’t hide your discomfort.

Seungkwan comes back, plate and drink in hand. He’s so weirded out by the scene, you barely hold back a laugh at the sight of his scrunched up face, Soonyoung still, doesn’t realise anything else.

“The fuck you doing?”

Soonyoung jumps at the harsh words. “I’m just feelin’ her, man.”

Seungkwan side-eyes your unimpressed expression. You let Soonyoung coo at your stomach for another five seconds before you’ve had enough, you nod at Seungkwan.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Seungkwan hisses, stomping his foot onto the soft grass as if to attack. Soonyoung jumps, immediately removing his hands from you and you finally breathe in relief, leaning back in your seat and watching Seungkwan deal expertly with him.

“What’s it to you, man?” Soonyoung exclaims, but it comes out very timid under Seungkwan’s displeased gaze.

“That’s my fucking daughter you’re infecting with your weird ass vibes. I don’t want her to be contaminated any further.”

Completely taken aback, Soonyoung can’t find any words to reply to the insult. It’s one thing to be rude, but to insult a man’s vibes is unbelievable. He looks at you with twinkling, hopeful little eyes, waiting for you to be the less offensive parent.

“You heard him. Shoo,” You wave your hand, happy to be rid of company.

You and Seungkwan break into a fit of laughter, watching the poor guy walk away.

When the party is over, you’re more relieved than anything. Seungkwan stays behind and helps you clean up the place. Which basically means he cleans up while you shower and slip into your comfiest clothes, not that you’re complaining.

You’re sitting at the sofa, hand resting on your stomach when he finally comes downstairs. Fresh from his shower, he smells like your bodywash.

He settles down next to you.

“Tired?” You ask.

He hums.

“How’s my babygirl?” He whispers, leaning over to talk to your belly. You don’t fight the giddy smile that takes over. It had been a couple of weeks since Seungkwan started talking to your baby — The doctor recommended he pick up on the habit so the baby could recognise his voice.

And he had no shame at all, making small talk with your unborn daughter any time he could, which was a complete 180 from you, who felt quite awkward at times.

“Kicking,” You sigh, “It’s way past her bedtime!”

He laughs.

“Give mummy a rest, will you?”

You laugh, running your hand over your clothed stomach in the hopes of calming your baby. She seemed to settle down once Seungkwan started talking though.

“Here,” He grabs a tiny fancy bag hidden behind his back.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s this?” He just smiles.

Opening the bag, you find the tiniest little off-white onesie, with the words “Daddy’s little bean�� embroidered on the front. You pick it up, finding it so small in your hands you can’t imagine a little human would fill it up soon.

“You know this is our daughter’s first onesie?” You smile, running your fingers over the embroidered text.

Seungkwan stares at you.

“What?” You ask, worried.

He smiles. “It’s the first time you’ve said ‘Our’.”

Your brows furrow and then you smile again, pressing your lips together to fight any stubborn emotions. “Shit,” You sniff. “Of course she’s ours, I didn’t make her by myself!”

Goddamn hormones got you again. And it seems they got Seungkwan as well.

You put on a random movie as background noise, not that either of you pay much attention to the plot. You’re just talking about the busy day you’ve had and the fact that finding out your precious baby is a girl. It just makes it all feel much realer.

“Ugh, Soonyoung. Who invited him?” Seungkwan moans with a roll of his eyes.

Shoving the last bit of your chocolates into your mouth, you laugh. “I think my mum did.”

“Guy can not get a hint to save his life!”

You’re laughing at his dramatic antics.

“And all that touching?” He shakes his head.

“You were so cool,” You bite your lip. “When you told him to get away from your daughter…”

“Huh?”

“I like it when you’re…” You shift in your seat, pressing your legs together, “…Possessive.”

Seungkwan malfunctions, gulping so loudly you can hear it. He looks at your bare legs pressed together, shakes his head and focuses back on your face.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that halfway through your second trimester, you feel on fire. You’re constantly needy. It doesn’t help that Seungkwan has been so incredible and unbearably hot so often. “Uh-huh,” You hum, leaning forward until you can reach his arm to trace your fingers along his bicep.

The ghost of your touch is enough to send shivers up his spine. Seungkwan blinks once, twice and gulps.

“Don’t,” He pleads.

You sigh with a pout and Seungkwan thinks you look so adorable with that cute little pout in your pretty lips.

A shy smile blooms on your face and you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “It’s fine if you don’t want to,” You shrug. “But the doctor said it was fine.” Seungkwan had sat awkwardly looking around when the doctor had given you the green light for sexual activity as long as you took it slow.

“No— I want to! Trust me. I want to. But…” He looks over at your stomach. “You can sit on my face,” He offers but you sigh once again.

“I don’t wanna sit on your face, I wanna sit on your cock,” It’s such a genuine confession you don’t even realise the effect it has on him.

Seungkwan chokes.

He closes his eyes, needing a second after the sudden blood loss from his brain. “That’s— That’s something dangerous to say, y’know.”

“Good!” You cross your arms over your chest, “Now you know how I feel.”

Almost immediately, he coos reaching forward to grab at your waist. “Aw, do you feel that needy for my cock?”

“You suck.”

He smirks, “You wish.”

You groan in frustration burying your head in the crook of his neck, he runs his hands over your hair, the scent of your shampoo engulfs him.

“I want you, baby… So bad” he whispers, voice hoarse in the late night exhaustion.

“Take me, then.”

“Shit, you really know how to push my buttons,” He laughs, the vibrations of his chest travelling through your connected bodies. Your skin burns with desire and his lustful whispers might just melt you.You smile against his skin.

“Can I take you on that offer?”

“Holy fuck, yes.”

With all the care in the world, Seungkwan pushes you to lay back, one leg thrown over his shoulder and the other spread off the couch. He helps you place a cushion behind your back.

Your skin is searing against his cool lips, burning under his scattered butterfly kisses. His slender fingers toy with the band of your underwear, close but not nearly enough to satiate your lustful spell.

But alas, he relishes in your squirms and mewls of anticipation, drawing out each open mouth kiss to the inside of your thigh with devilish pleasure. With your underwear long forgotten, his fingers can graze along your bare hips and the hard bump along your stomach. Hands gripping your hips, he brings them toward his face, nose grazing along your pelvic bone, he inhales.

“Fuck… You smell fucking divine…”

Any possible reply you had flees from your mind the moment he licks a long stripe along your aching core. His hold keeps you in place, eager tongue diving into your heat to lap at your juices, humming at every nerve that jumps under his attention.

“Aren’t you sensitive?” He coos, a deep laugh reverberating from his chest and sending goosebumps through your entire body.

You try your best to disguise a scandalous moan with a fake cough. Though you suspect he knows.

“Sh–shut up!”

His left hand is cautiously placed over your belly, guaranteeing no touch will be too much while his right is running torturous circles along your outer labia. A teasing thumb draws figure eights on your clitoris, You let out a dreamy, muffled moan and it caresses his mind with lust, short-circuiting his brain for a brief second.

“You’re absolutely dripping, y’know?” He whispers against your throbbing heat, his tongue positively eager to dive in and taste you.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’s your fault.”

A finger goes in easily, pushing and prodding at your gummy insides, stretching you out. “How is it my fault?”

You sigh, hand gripping onto a poor throw pillow, “Kept teasing me.”

Seungkwan smiles devilishly. Then adds a second finger, scissoring you open, relishing in the squelching sounds your arousal makes against his motions.

“Teasing you, yeah?”

“Y—Yeah!” You gulp,

“How come?” He eggs you on, teasingly slow on his ministrations.

“Kept walking around all— All dressed up. You looked so—“ It’s when he massages your most sensitive spot that you lose track of your thoughts.

“Go on, love.”

“Looked so… Handsome.”

“Did I, now?”

You nod.

He’s always one to love a compliment, especially in these circumstances when you sound so needy and sweet. “I need you to elaborate on that.”

“You looked really good with that button-up,” Seungkwan hums.

“And your hair styled like that— I wanted to jump you.” You confess With a third finger added, you feel the stretch from his gorgeous, slender fingers curling into your gummy walls. You don’t notice your hips grinding into his palm, but he does, of course.

Deciding it’s enough teasing for now, Seungkwan hums with a satisfied smirk, diving down to suckle on your clit.

Caught off-guard, you let out and an unfiltered curse followed by his name.

His fingers thrust in and out of you while tongue is dancing around your bundle of nerves. You’re squirming but his other hand holds you in place lest you interrupt him in his favourite activity.

Seungkwan is in fact, so lost in it, eyes closed with his eyelashes fluttering along his chubby cheeks, pleasured hums erupting from his throat that he doesn’t notice he’s been grinding against a poor cushion.

Your hand find his still damp hair, letting your fingers tangle into your beautiful locks, pulling at his scalp with every other move of his. He hisses at the sting from your desperation, but relishes in it.

With his finger curling against your most sensitive spot, he focus on driving you crazy with his tongue. Flattening it out against your clit, licking long stripes before running it over side to side just before he puckers his lips and sucks.

Your leg thrown over the couch falls onto his back, curling around his torso and pulling him closer, burying his face in your cunt as throw your head back and spill out desperate cries of his name.

He smiles against your throbbing clit, noticing just how much louder you’ve gotten.

“Close, baby?”

You nod with a whiny moan.

It’s more than enough to stimulate him back to his activities, keeping up the pace until you’re shaking even more than before. Your well-deserved orgasm hits your body with inexplicable waves of pleasure.

You whimper out his name in the sultriest of voices, enough to inebriate his mind with blind lust.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’ve come down from your brief euphoria and are whining from overstimulation, practically pushing him away — A far cry from your attempts of burying him into you just earlier.

Letting go of your tired muscles, you let out a tired sigh, throwing your head back. Post-orgasm bliss enveloping your body in its soft caresses. Seungkwan smiles, finally coming up to look at you.

You look positively satisfied, your skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat but most importantly — pleasure.

He leans forward, clean hand wiping away any stray hairs that are glued to your forehead. Seungkwan has such a soft smile on his swollen, reddened lips, his eyes kiss your face with adoring looks.

It’s almost easy to ignore the strained bulge poking at your stomach right now.

“You…” You point out and he looks somewhat caught.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat, pulling away.

You immediately grab his arm, “What? No— It’s not what I meant.”

His pretty eyes are locked on you. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No— Let me help you,” You bite at your lower lip, not ever willing to admit the idea of pleasuring Seungkwan aroused you to no end

“What? No, you’re—“

“I can still use my hands, you idiot.”

The prospect of a handjob — of any part of you touching his dick, really — is enough to distract him from any insults thrown his way. Hiding his excitement, Seungkwan sits back, legs spread open as he waits for you to settle to his side.

It doesn’t take much to pull his rigid cock from his precum stained sweats. It bobs up, standing red and angry against his stomach. He hisses at the sudden feeling of cold air caressing his searing skin.

Chewing on your lip, you lean forward, the brushing of your bare arms enough to make his cock twitch.

You lick your fingers and reach for him: up and down, up and down, running your thumb along his slit, smearing beads of rich precum along his length.

While his lips hold nothing but soft pleas and whines, you work your way over his length, reaching in between your legs to use your own come as lube — Oh, that drove him absolutely insane. The very thought of having your essence wrapped around his cock, shit, it’s still warm, too.

His head rests on your shoulder, every heavy breath tickles your skin. You bite your lower lip, containing your own moans at such a delicious sight. Seungkwan melts like putty in your touch.

Seungkwan whines into your neck, a loud gulp makes his adam’s apple bob up and down, but you’ve got your mind laser-focused on giving him just as great of an orgasm. Not that he’s too far from it, no. His fingers, which before were so teasing and precise, now grasp at your arm and clothes, fingers curling around fabric in desperation.

He squirms as you quicken your pace, legs flailing but never interrupting you. Adjusting yourself on the sofa, you lean forward until you are close enough to run your tongue along his length.

“Shit!” He jumps, arm moving to grab the back of the sofa.

You lips graze along his absurdly hot skin, leaving well placed kisses at the base; Not ceasing the motion of your hands, instead letting your other hand join in, massaging his balls.

“I’m close—“ He manages to spew out just before he finally cums.

Hot spurts of cum fly up his torso and land on his clean shirt, his legs shake under him and he can barely muster out a single moan. You keep up your strokes until he has nothing left to give.

Seungkwan leans back, arm thrown over his eyes, loud pants coming from his lips.

Teasingly, you kiss his tip before you tuck it back into his underwear.

You wish you had any energy left to tease him some more, but you want nothing more than a bath and your soft bed. So you lay back on the soft, eyelids weighing a ton.

He finally faces you, a tired smile on his lips as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest.

“Shower?”

You smile, “You read my mind.”

“I want to get a house.”

His announcement comes as a surprise. It had been a lazy weekend, you just started working on dinner and he offered some help.

“A house? Do you not like your fancy apartment anymore?” You pry curiously.

“I’m gonna keep my apartment, it’s just… I want to get a house here. For when I come visit you.”

“You can just stay with me,” You shrug, not seeing the big picture and he’s having a hard time getting out what he really wants to say.

“Yeah, but… I want our daughter to have a big house and a backyard where she can play— No offence to your place, but I’d like her to have more space.”

Stopping in your tracks, you hold back ‘Aw’ing at him. “That’s so sweet.” He smiles, relived. “But…”

Seungkwan half-panics, “But what?”

“I won’t lie… I have been thinking about moving…”

“To Seoul?” He inches closer.

You nod. “Travelling will be hard for you and… She’s gonna need her daddy.” There’s a soft smile playing in your lips, though Seungkwan is visibly emotional after your words. The stock you’d been carefully adding vegetables to has come to a boil, yet you don’t bother giving it any attention.

“A-Are you sure? It’s a big change.”

“My contract with the school is almost over and in a couple of months I won’t be able to work until the baby is big enough.”

“That’s true… But you love it here!”

“It’s not like I’ll never come back,” You wave off his concern, “I was thinking I could get a place just outside of the city.”

You had been thinking about it ever since Seungkwan came back and decided to be a part of your daughter’s life. Actually, you’d given it some thought when you found out you were pregnant; you loved your hometown but you wanted to give your child the best chance in life and moving into the big city meant better jobs for you and better education for your baby.

Having him in your child’s life meant that he’d be away for work most of the time and he seemed too excited for all of it, it’d break your heart to see him miss the most important milestones because of the distance.

Seungkwan bites back an excited smile, trying his best to act nonchalantly about it all. “You could move in with me while we look at houses.” He says quietly, side-eyeing for your reaction.

You scratch at your neck, unsure of how to react. “Kwannie, I wouldn’t be comfortable making you buy a whole house…”

“I promise it will be in our daughter’s name. We’ll find somewhere with a big backyard and maybe a pool,” He no longer hid his excitement. The whole situation had been gnawing away at him, too.

You don’t deny that it sounds amazing. “The pool needs to be fenced.”

“Of course.”

“It has to have a large kitchen,” You play along.

He smiles, “Consider it done.”

“Three bedrooms minimum.”

“Are you planning on having an office? Or—“ Seungkwan gulps, a sudden heat blooming in his cheeks, “You want another kid?”

You choke on your own saliva, staring at him. “A room for each of us!” Slightly embarrassed, he scratches at his neck. “That’s fine, too…”

Not that having two kids sounded bad. You were only thinking of your daughter, of course. You didn’t want her to be lonely growing up. That’s it. Nothing to do with how incredible of a father Seungkwan has shown himself to be and how much that has overthrown your brain.

“I’ll start looking,” Seungkwan says, reaching for his phone.

“Already?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I want us to have everything settled before she’s here.”

“Why the rush? We’ve got a couple of months before I give birth.”

“Once she’s born we won’t have time to do anything. And my apartment isn’t exactly child friendly…” Not just because he wants to move in with you, not at all.

“That’s true…” You bite at your lip, “Shit, closing on a house takes time, right? What if we don’t have enough time?” Suddenly, you’re very worried about the next couple of months.

“Leave it to me, I’ll make sure we find the perfect place,” He reassures you with a warm smile and you hate how it makes everything alright.

You throw your arms around his neck, excitedly jumping up and down. "Thank you, Kwannie, you’re the best,” Your words are saccharine sweet and Seungkwan finds himself to be overcome with arousal; which had become a common occurrence as of lately.

Not that he didn’t find you hot before, but it felt like everything was intensified a thousand fold. You were just so sweet with your protruding bump and neediness. Every time you needed something you came straight to him, even with the smallest of tasks like opening a jar of peanut butter.

Although he liked to pride himself in being free from toxic masculinity, Seungkwan was nothing if not affected by you making him feel like a big strong man.

You’d just start planning on the future nursery and he reassured you 100% that he could build it all himself with his own two hands — You were so smitten, you immediately jumped to smother his cheeks with kisses.

And he could feel your figure against his chest, how round you'd become and it drove him insane. You bat your eyelashes at him once with those pretty eyes and he's at your feet doing whatever you asked.

He once caught you rubbing body oil over your stomach, claiming it would prevent stretch marks. Though any and all words fell on deaf ears, he was completely enamoured with the sight before him. You, fresh off the shower, slight damp hair, a comfy nightgown, an arm holding your tits out of the way while the other ran along your skin.

“Let me do it,” The words were out before he could even think about it. Not that he disagreed with the horny bits of his brain, this was a great idea through and through.

You scoffed and then realised he meant it. “Oh? Okay…”

Seungkwan stood behind you, chest flush to you semi-bare back, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, slender fingers running along your skin. God, the slightest brush of his fingertips sent shivers down your spine.

You squirmed every time his hands wandered just far down enough to graze the bunched up fabric of your beige panties — Not your sexiest pair, you admitted and wished you’d put on something cuter.

His hands, his gorgeous hands, kneaded onto the abundant flesh of your belly, easily gliding all over but never where you need it the most. It’s only when you feel him poke at your back, that you realise this has affected him just as much.

With a mischievous smile, you shake your hips, hearing a quiet growl erupt from his chest.

“Stop— I won’t be able to control myself—“

“You don’t need to put it in—“ Your voice is a siren’s call, dripping in lust with your tempting offers, he feels as if he might drown in your sweet essence, though it would be a lovely way to go.

“Fuck— You’ll drive me crazy, y’know.” He grumbles but you hear him fight with his trousers and boxers.

With a couple of pumps over his length, Seungkwan holds your hips still. Feeding his dick inch by inch through your legs, your heavenly warmth surrounds every inch of his skin, sending his heartbeat into a lust-filled frenzy.

Your panties offer an unfamiliar texture, but your thighs, oh, your thighs; hot and juicy, they clamp around his crying dick and he feels your lovely skin all over his length. It’s dizzying, having his penis so close to your hole after so long.

Oh, how he wishes to take you apart around him and watch you come undone again and again. Hips desperately rutting into yours, you feel the hotness of his cock practically burning your skin in red hot lust. You drip and melt into his body, losing where he ends and you begin, you are a simple puzzle and he's the one piece you need to feel complete. Letting your own desire overcome every sense, you soak through the fabric of your panties, enough for him to feel it.

“Fuck—“ Seungkwan groans, hiding his reddened face on the crook of your neck, letting his hot breath tickle your skin. “You’re so— so wet, baby.”

You nod mindlessly, hands holding onto his arms for some stability. Those beautiful slender fingers of his caress your body all over, kneading the abundant flesh of your breasts, dipping into the plunge of your nightgown to find your eager nipples and you throw your head back, presenting yourself to his enjoyment. His tongue runs across the dip of your neck with a trail of searing kisses, nibbles and hickies.

“Who’s got you like this, huh?” His sinful whispers dissipate amongst the curves of your neck, raising goosebumps along its path.

“You.”

“Say my name, princess.”

“You. Seungkwan, you do—“

The way his name rolls off your tongue so naturally stirs in him something primal, every breathy syllable burnt into his brain. His name belonged to you and you only. For you to chant over and over, to call his name in a breathless prayer.

You’re clenching around nothing, arched onto his body, relying on his grip for support. His movements are broken and shaky, timed by quiet hisses and groans. You can feel his length, hot and throbbing and you've never craved him as badly. Desire honey thick, it drips through your body, leaving a hazy trail in your mind, clouding any coherent thought, leaving you pliant against his body.

The tip of his cock rubs against your clothed clit and you moan out his name, your legs have suddenly given under the abrupt wave of pleasure that bleeds through your every inch. He holds you still, hips thrusting back and forth chasing his own pleasure until he finds it. White ropes splashing all over the floor and your thighs.

Seungkwan kisses your neck and shoulder, humming praises that clear the fog of your post-orgasmic-bliss brain. His hands caress you all over, your stomach, your arms. He tells you you’re beautiful, amazing, incredible and all the adjectives he can mutter.

He worships you as his own, honeyed words melting into the cracks of your heart.

“You’re lucky I’m so tired,” You huff out, leaning against him, relishing in the way it feels to be held.

He lets out a soft laugh, “Why is that?”

“If I weren’t dead tired, I would suck you dry and leave your balls emptier than they’ve ever been.”

You feel him harden between your legs. “Shit.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

Far from you hitting him with a classic “What are we?”, especially since you were the one to reject his rushed marriage proposal in the first place. But the way he looks at you with so much love is driving you insane.

And… You crave him.

Like nothing before.

His very presence enchants you beyond salvation, you’re enticed by his every move, his voice and even the scent that lingers after he leaves.

You went shopping for a dress over the weekend, realising everything you had no longer fits right and Seokmin’s sister's wedding was just around the corner. Seungkwan, of course, tagged along, flashing his black card at every chance possible.

Every dress you tried on, he looked at you with such a hunger in his eyes, your panties were ruined from the very beginning.

Leaving the store with your purchase, you passed by a baby store and of course, you had to go in. The worker confused you for a married couple and Seungkwan didn’t deny it, he just kept inquiring about the different prams, very adamant about the safety of your daughter; Something that had turned into quite the turn on.

Squeezing into a dress and heels and doing heavy makeup on a Saturday hadn’t been in your schedule for years. But the event of a wedding had you rushing to get ready in time. You were very visibly pregnant by now, despite it not being that long since you’d started really showing. Part of you dreads meeting all the familiar faces and having to hear all of their gossip while the other just wants to get it all over with.

Seungkwan had elected to get ready at your place — He was practically glued to your side all the time. You couldn’t even say he wouldn’t accompany you to the bathroom because he almost certainly had.

He, of course, flaunts his mile-long line of luxury fitted suits to be chosen from, standing at the mirror for ages just to pick out a colour to truly highlight his complexion. Meanwhile, you’ve been ready for at least half an hour.

“I like the black,” You suggest.

“It’s too obvious,” He whines.

“How about beige?”

He ponders with a low hum.

“It’s classy!” You add.

“You convinced me,” He smiles, making work of removing his bathrobe.

The navy microfiber slips off his smooth skin all too easy, revealing his enticingly gorgeous figure — He always had an elegant aura, with slender limbs and and air about him that just craved success. But way past the puberty woes and knocking on the door of his early 30s, Seungkwan had filled up into a tempting heartthrob.

His biceps were much bigger and well-defined, even under your dim bedroom lighting and his chest, good heavens. His pecs pushed against every article of clothing that dared cover them, making their existence hard to ignore.

A sigh leaves your painted lips.

Seungkwan’s eyes meet yours through the mirror’s reflection, watching you sitting at the edge of your unmade bed. His gaze is dark and defiant, a prideful smirk clings to his pretty lips under the awareness of your drooling.

You can’t say watching his slowly button up the tightest dress shirt was doing very good for your crazy hormones. His damp hair draping over his forehead, down to his sharp eyebrows and long eyelashes. The sight of his gorgeous hands deftly making work of the buttons is just hypnotic.

The both of you had yet to have sex — the penetrative kind. Every other type had been used and abused and yet, you still craved for much more. And he couldn’t claim to be blissfully unaware of your lustful spell, either. Oh, how he loved to tease you at every waking chance he had.

While you’re very aware of the effect he has on your body, fanning your sizzling face with your hands, Seungkwan picks up the matching trousers, slipping them past his long legs and above the roundness of his boxer-clad ass, you can clearly see it bounce when he does a little jump to help the fitting of his slacks.

Alluring fingers playing with the zipper and buttons, he lets his eyes travel to meet your figure once again.

Your eyes are arrayed in fervent desire, the type that simmers under low heat, quietly bubbling and changing form, caramelising under constant showers of passion, tasting sweeter by the minute. Oh, how he adored you.

“You ready?”

You snap out of it, jumping in your seat with a quiet “Mhm?” Seungkwan offers you a toothy grin, “Are you ready?” He asks once again, reaching for the blazer that would finish his masterpiece.

Nodding, you push yourself off the bed. “Yeah, just need my shoes and I’m ready.”

Though Seungkwan protested your choice of footwear, claiming they were far too dangerous, you still went ahead and wore your chunky kitten heels, they just made your legs look too good not to wear.

Seungkwan had even rented a car for the whole ordeal; a flashy sports car with a sleek design and too-sharp edges. But he was living for the whole ordeal of dressing up for an event.

While you quietly watch him drive, there's something on the back of your mind. You hadn't discussed your relationship, ever. Usually, – before the baby, that is –, you would keep to yourself when in public, however, you are unsure if your unspoken agreement still stands. The two of you rarely ever arrived at events together, hell, there's plenty you've done together in the past month that you'd only dreamed of before.

And while you're nibbling on your manicured nails, Seungkwan sees the situation quite a lot clearer than you do. When he pulls into the parking lot for the fancy event hall, he exits the car in a haste and he's at your feet just before you manage to open your own door.

You give him a surprised smile, placing your hand in his and accepting his help to exit the car.

However, he doesn't let go once you're out of the vehicle and are finished smoothing your dress, his hand still holds yours while he hands the key to the valet.

Biting at your lip, you can't help the giddy butterflies that make themselves at home in your stomach.

You are both greeted by the bride and groom's family, putting on a nice smile and giving them all the compliments in the world.

It wasn't uncommon for Seungkwan to turn heads, he loved that aspect of his live in the spotlight, that doesn't mean you had as easy of a time seeing every single guest pay attention to you, letting their whispers fill the place.

Noticing your nervousness, Seungkwan gives your hand a light squeeze.

Before either of you can say anything, you're interrupted by the world's brightest smiler. The bride's very proud little brother is approaching you.

"Oh, you guys! I'm so excited you made it!"

"Don't you clean up nice, mister?!" You tease him, and he smooths down the jacket of his suit with a smile.

"You guys look great as well!" His eyes trail down to where your hands are joined but he doesn't say anything. "Have you already taken your pictures with Sohee?"

"We just got here," Seungkwan explains.

"Well, let's go, then."

He doesn't leave any room to protest, guiding the both of you through the hall and down into the waiting room. Seungkwan is surprisingly not as nervous as you expected him to be, which is somehow, more worrying.

First thing you're met with is the horde of bridesmaids with champagne flutes and loud cackling as they gossip about the guests. With Seokmin's presence, you easily dodge their gaggle.

Sohee is sitting on the wide sofa, surrounded by beautiful flowers as she takes pictures with a group of people.

"Her dress looks insanely expensive," you quietly comment, to which Seungkwan hums in agreement.

When the people leave, Seokmin talks to the photographer for a second.

"Sir, you sit to her left and you to her right, please," The photographer announces.

You move to sit on the couch, though Seungkwan never lets go of your hand, assisting you until you're sat. Only, does he move to his designated spot.

"You look beautiful, Sohee" You tell the bride briefly, but she doesn't quite pay attention. Her eyes are scanning Seungkwan's figure.

"Look here, please," The photographer raises their hand and Sohee finally faces the camera.

The photograph is taken in a flash.

Barely managing to motion standing up, you're immediately helped by Seungkwan's unfairly soft hands.

"Are you in town for long?" Sohee asks suddenly, sending both of your's attention her way.

You look at Seungkwan, waiting for his reply.

He nods, "Yeah."

Looking like she expects more, Sohee just licks her lips and nods, "Do you think–"

She's interrupted by the large group of middle-aged ladies that pour into the room with their proud smiles and compliments. Seokmin immediately greets them, gesturing for them to sit by the gorgeous bride-to-be.

"Thanks for the invite," You bid your goodbyes, leaving the waiting room.

You and Seungkwan gossip about the place and the seemingly large budget while you wait for the ceremony to begin.

The ceremony is just as any other wedding you've ever attended; only a thousand times more extravagant. Not that you expected anything but. It's beautiful, the bride and groom seem to have practiced the whole thing way too many times.

Everyone stands up to watch the bride throw the bouquet, you wonder who did she pick to receive it.

As you clap your hands, tip-toeing to watch just who is going to be Sohee's successor in the marriage market, you don't notice the flying bundle of flowers coming directly toward your face.

You're lucky Seungkwan still has his reflexes, he expertly catches the bouquet before you can even acknowledge its very presence.

His pretty eyes widen in panic, looking at the very pretty flowers in his hand.

It doesn't take him too long to come to his senses and kindly pass the bouquet off to Sohee's chosen friend.

You laugh at the situation.

"Congrats," You tease, "I guess you're getting married first," nudging his shoulder, you watch him roll his eyes.

"I'm not marrying anyone in the next six months unless you're up for it."

It's such a silly, passing comment. He doesn't even pay attention to what he says, but you feel your stubborn stomach butterflies jump circles in the lining of your oesophagus.

The post-ceremony lunch is amazing and you, of course, abstain from any celebratory drinks. Seungkwan drinks double in your honour, despite your objections. At some point in the festiveness, your old classmates find you and you enjoy the nostalgic banter. Although you were questioned about your very visible pregnancy, it went much better than any of your expectations. And it seems most linked Seungkwan's sudden hovering and overprotection to his contribution to your current state.

"My feet are killing me," You groan, settling into a bench.

"I told you not to wear heels," Seungkwan says.

You roll your eyes, "I know… But they make my legs look great."

Seokmin laughs, "It's fine, half of the bridesmaids are barefoot by now."

"You make a great point," You point at Seokmin, toeing off your heels. "I wish I had brought some backups, though…"

"That's why I brought you some flats, they're in the car," Seungkwan has this proud puppy smile, knowing he did something amazing and awaiting the praise.

You groan in happiness, "I could seriously get up and kiss you, but my feet are killing me," You confess.

Seungkwan laughs, "I'll get them, don't move."

"No problem, I'll ask someone in the staff to bring it to you," Seokmin waves it off.

"Oh, please, it's just a pair of shoes. "Exactly," He responds, leaving to wave at a staff member.

Watching you fidget, Seungkwan sees you're shoving your feet back into your heels.

"Why are you putting your shoes back on?"

"I need to pee, I think."

"You think?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry it's hard to know exactly how full my bladder is when your daughter is constantly kicking it."

"She's a good girl."

You huff, "I'm going to pee," You announce, raising your hand when he motions to stand up," Don't follow me to the bathroom, it's weird."

Seungkwan wants to protest, but you shoot him a pointed glare.

It takes maybe thirty seconds of him being unattended for Sohee to spot from the other side of the hall, she gathers the many layers of her dress and walks up to him, sporting a bright smile.

"Seungkwan! So good to see you!"

He nods, "Thanks for the invite and congratulations." It's a sincere wish.

"Well, I just had to invite my biggest admirer, hadn't I?" She jokes, lightly tapping at his shoulder, Seungkwan just sort of shrugs. Licking her lips awkwardly, Sohee continues, " You know… I remember when you were younger, you were just crazy about me!" She laughs.

Wishing you'd hurry up, he flashes her a hesitant smile.

He didn't want anything to do with Sohee, not now, not ever.

It was the type of realisation he thought would hurt. He spent so long reaching for the unattainable, trying to patch up wounds from the past with cold revenge that at some point those wounds started to quietly heal.

He was more than content with his career, he accomplished so much in his short years on TV using only his overflowing charisma – and despite any past scandals, had talks of producing and presenting other shows. Seungkwan was loved by the public, adored by brands and welcomed with open arms just about anywhere. He had proven to himself and everyoned that ever dared doubt his star potential that he was just that; a star, destined to be admired.

But most importantly, he had his mind filled with wonder over how the future would turn out.

Every night, as he laid by your side and watched you drift off to sleep, Seungkwan would caress your stomach and imagine what his daughter will look like. He wondered just who she would take after in appearance and if her personality would match her lookalike. He also worried if he was fit to be a parent at all.

And then you would stir in your sleep, and he would feel those tiny but very powerful kicks, then everything feels alright. He's right where he belongs; right by his girls.

His wholesome epiphany doesn't mean Sohee will take a fucking hint. She keeps initiating contact, flashing that fake smile of hers.

"I tried to be an actress, y'know," It's a very obvious hint at her hidden agenda, he realises, though he hasn't got half a mind to lose her. "Couldn't make it because of a bitch that sabotaged me…" She scoffs, painted lips curling into a frown, "But I was good, really good! I would've made it if it weren't for what happened!"

Seungkwan nods politely, wishing he had a drink in his hand.

"You reckon I would've made it?"

"Mhm?"

"As an actress, you think I would make it big?" She smiles expectedly.

"Sure," He shrugs and it's clearly not enough.

"Oh, please. You can be honest!" She nudges at his shoulders, her hands lingering far too long, rubbing across his chest.

He licks at his lips, openly uncomfortable. "We can't know for sure."

"I mean, look at me! I've got a face for drama, " She poses, "I'm unforgettable, y'know. Well, I'm sure you know," Sohee laughs, "you're probably still hung up on me!" she bites at her lip, looking him up and down.

That strikes a bit of a nerve.

"No– I–"

"It's fine! I know… And…" She takes a step closer, "I'm not opposed to it," Her manicured finger draws circles on his chest, "I'm open if you wanna play," She winks.

Seungkwan takes a step back.

"I just think… it takes more than an average face to make it into the industry… And into my bed."

Oh, how furious she is.

It's such a sudden shift in her mood, he almost flinches. Can't say it wasn't satisfying as hell getting to say that after so many years.

"What?! Average?! Average?! Oh, fuck you! Just because I rejected you in high school, doesn't mean you should hold a grudge!"

Seungkwan looks around at the people that suddenly are very interested in their conversation.

"I'll tell you what, I don't need your opinion! Every day, I get stopped by men dying to get with me and you know what–"

It seems you heard his silent but very desperate prayers, appearing just when he needed you the most.

"What's up?" You ask, quite confused.

"What is up, is that this cunt holds a grudge because I rejected him in high school," Sohee crosses her arms childishly.

"That's not–" Seungkwan tries to explain it to you, but you know Sohee well enough to predict her temper.

"Come on, it's your wedding day, why do you care what he thinks, just relax," You argument, hoping it's enough to convince her.

"You're right, it is my wedding day and I deserve an apology."

"A what now?"

"An apology, I deserve one or you're kicked out."

"Oh, fuck off!" You yell, turning on your heels and dragging Seungkwan with you.

You hope you're far away enough she won't give chase. Or security, maybe.

Too bad for you she immediately signals for security and you hurry your step.

Bumping into Seokmin on the way, you steal your flats from his hands.

"You guys, what's the hurry?" He laughs.

"Thank you, Seokmin, great party!" You yell, shrugging off your heels and toeing into the flats as fast as you can.

Still confused, he pries in further, "What? Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, long story, your sister kicked us out."

"What?!"

Seungkwan crouches to pick up your discarded shoes, "Great party, though."

"Yeah, I loved seeing you and the kids, we need to schedule a reunion sometime," You add.

"Are you done?" Seungkwan asks.

"Yeah," You nod.

"Let's go," He grabs your hand.

"Bye, Seokmin!"

"Bye-bye," You parrot.

And the two of you bolt down the hall toward the parking lot.

You're laughing your heads off by the time the valet brings around the rental, recalling just how crazy the past five minutes have been.

Seungkwan opens the door for you after leaving the valet a very generous tip.

"What did she want?" Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Oh, fucking hell," He rolls his eyes, pulling out of the event hall. "You won't believe it."

"What?" You're already laughing at the idea.

"She kept hitting on me."

"What?" No longer laughing, you adjust yourself in your seat, "And what did tell her?"

"I said she needs more than an average face to make it into my bed."

You laugh awkwardly, not sure how to reply.

"Does that mean you're finally over her… Or… Do you still like Sohee?"

"Are you kidding me?!" He laughs at the absurdity of your suggestion. "I mean, I guess I knew it in my heart ages ago, but I sort of realised it today… I got over her a long time ago."

"You mean it?"

"Oh, getting kicked out of her wedding didn't prove it?"

You smile, "I guess it does prove you don't want to fuck her."

"You couldn't pay me to!"

Barely containing your foolish smile, you play with the hem of your dress.

"Besides," Seungkwan opens a mischievous smile, "I've got my eyes on the world's hottest MILF,"

You groan, hitting at his shoulder between your fits of laughter, "Stop it!"

Arriving at your place, you couldn't wait to finally get out of your party outfit and into your comfy pajamas. Toeing off your shoes halfway through your hallway, you pit-patter into your dimly lit bedroom with Seungkwan as your shadow.

"Can you help me?" Your plea is sleepy and sweet, carrying him to you before he can even process your words.

You're standing barefoot, dress clinging onto your shoulder, zipper halfway down. Seungkwan reaches for it, feeling the sudden spark of your bare skin grazing along his fingers. Once the zipper is all the way down, you sigh in relief and shrug the dress off. He feels like a puberty stricken teenager, being overcome with lust with a simple glance of your hyptonitisng body.

Looking back, you watch him stare at you, completely frozen.

"What?"

He doesn't respond.

"Do you want help, too?" You lean forward with a tease.

Fingers wrapping around his expensive tie, you pull him just close enough until his breath caresses your lips. Watching through half-lidded eyes, you glance at his pouty lips, overcome with the urge to take them.

Reading your mind, Seungkwan cups your burning hot cheeks, crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss.

It's disgustingly messy with clashing teeth and breathless moans devoured alive with insatiable hunger. You're melting into his arms, clumsy synchronised steps toward the bed, almost tripping on your discarded dress.

Your fall into the bed isn't enough to part your frantic kiss, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him impossibly close, feeling the fabric of his suit grazing against your naked body, every wrinkle and fold a torturous experience.

Seungkwan shrugs off his blazer, throwing it somewhere in the room. He pulls at his tie with one arm and had your eyes been open, they'd be glued to the throbbing veins that decorate his skin.

"Keep–" You breathe out, "Keep it on–"

His smile is almost devilish. "Fuck me, aren't you naughty?"

You nod thoughtlessly, "I'm fuckin' crazy about you in that suit…" "Yeah?" Egging you on, he can barely contain his own lust at your words. The mere thought that you had been containing yourself all day, that he drove you just as crazy.

"Mmh," You kiss him, "I was thinking about you all day,"

"Fuck."

His hands are on your body, grabbing, kneading at your burning skin, touching every inch he pour his greedy touch on. Although he wants to kiss and your worship you, he dreads the thought of leaving your lips. Oh, such a tough choice.

Expertly, he undoes your bra, giving into your relief and lust at once. His hands find your breasts, massaging, flicking at your sensitive nipples.

Every single one of your quiet moans are muffled with his eager kisses.

You're pulling him closer and closer, toying with his dress shirt, pulling at each button. Torturously slow, you undo every button, feeling every inch of his bare skin on yours.

Pretty fingers grazing along the bulge that strains his slacks, you bat your eyelashes with a pout and he near melts. A mischievous smile plays at your lips as you blindly navigate his belt and zipper, finding your way into his pants.

He pulsates in your hands, hot and heavy and burning in desire.

You run a single finger along his length and it's enough to have him stuttering.

"I need to be in you, baby–"

You're drunk with lust at this point, the very thought of having him inside you is clouding your judgement beyond recognition. You can only nod fervoursly, parting your legs to receive him.

He leans back on his heels, staring at you, glossy eyes and parted lips, practically begging for him. He takes a long, hard stare at your round figure, the size of your stomach, the very thought that it was his seed that made you like this driving him insane with the primal sense of possession.

"You drive me crazy, y'know," He whispers against your kiss-swollen lips and you feel every vibration of his lust ridden whisper.

Maybe it's the atmosphere or the abstinence that's making you drunk on him. But you feel every inch of his body, every single touch of his feels a thousand times. His body burns against yours, fastened hearts irregularly dancing around each other's beats.

Having him inside you after so long feels like nothing ever before. You're getting split on his cock, mouth in a constant 'O'. He can feel every agonising inch of your wall clinging and squeezing around him.

Seungkwan holds himself back, willing his mind to think completely natural thoughts lest he come too fast. You're so warm, wrapping tightly around his length, pulsating and eager. What could a man do besides keep you filled up?

He drinks your every broken moan, every ragged breath resembling his name, relishing in the effect he has on you.

With sluggish thrusts, Seungkwan finally moves. Bottoming out feels heavenly, you can barely think. How you're split open deliciously on his length, you feel him throb inside you, dragging out of your walls before slamming back in.

"Fuck– You're choking me, baby–" You hum, not really focusing on anything other than the way he feels.

Fastening his pace, he is entranced with how your body looks under him.

Your eyes are tightly closed, limbs tangled around. Your entire body is jiggling with every thrust of his, following his every move. Fuck. He buries his head in the dip of your neck, biting at your skin to quiet himself, hot breath tickling your sensitive skin.

He has to will himself into a slower tempo lest he finish too fast, no, he wishes to drag this out impossibly long. To savour every millisecond, burn it in his brain until he can see and think of nothing but the way you come apart under him, the way you melt and fit around his body.

Your entire body sizzles with unadulterated lust.

"I'm– I'm close," You warn.

He hums, interrupted by a groan.

"Cum for me, princess, come on–"

You nod, voice crescendo into a string of disconnected words, chanting his name over and over. The sight of your pretty face overtaken by pleasure is enough to send him into his own climax, spilling into you with a final thrust.

Careful not to crush you, Seungkwan collapses to your side, reaching for your hand to intertwine your fingers together. He brings your hand to his lips, placing a loving kiss.

You snuggle into his chest.

"Can't believe I just fucked a MILF."

You laugh in desbelief.

"What the fuck!"

Moving had always proven to be a sisyphean task, it was no different when moving in with the father of your baby with whom you had an unlabeled very complicated relationship. At least he was more than willing to actually pay for a moving company as opposed to enticing your closest friends with beer and pizza.

And you very close to a good day until you grabbed an unassuming bag, only to discover a huge gash that extended to some of the clothing inside. After a justified breakdown, you sighed and surrendered to fate.

“Do you have a sewing kit?” You ask Seungkwan, looking at the large hole in your favourite sweater.

“In my nightstand,” Seungkwan replies mindlessly, eyes glued onto the TV. While he did help with the moving, the harmless idea of turning on the game had suddenly resulted in him holding open boxes while standing in the middle of the hallway, very entranced by the game.

You make your way through the mess of discarded boxes and enter his bedroom, being welcomed by the ever enticing scent of his cologne.

It’s only a minute or two after, that Seungkwan realises the predicament he’s in and stumbles his way into the bedroom, tripping over every single item on the floor.

He does realise it took him too long.

"What's all this?" You furrow your brows, looking at the very large array of velvet boxes in his nightstand.

"Nothing," Seungkwan hurries, closing the drawer way too fast. It comes out less as something he's embarrassed of and more that you should keep out of his business, not what he meant, of course.

"Right, sorry," You clear your throat, turning away without ever meeting his eyes.

It's enough to make him realise how his actions were received. "It's… Nothing, really, I mean it."

"Yeah, of course," You shrug, forcing a smile.

He sighs, "I mean it, look," reaching to pull the drawer open, Seungkwan gestures to the items inside.

In the drawer are a few velvet boxes tucked away and a tiny box with a loose ring and a necklace.

"It's fine!" You insist, "I shouldn't pry into something private."

"It's not private."

"Of course it is, I'm sure you keep your exes' stuff for sentimental reasons."

Seungkwan furrows his brow, staring at you, "They're not from my exes."

"You don't have to lie."

"I mean it."

"Seungkwan–"

"I mean it!" He kneels in front of you, reaching into the drawer.

"This one, I got you when we started pretending in uni… I felt like I needed to get you something… Both to prove that we were together and as a thanks," He places the shiny pendant in your hand. "This one is from when… we started sleeping together… I thought I should get you a ring for y'know," He shrugs, placing a single ring next to the pendant in your palm.

Seungkwan reaches into the drawer, picking up the first velvet box, "This one I bought for your birthday after I came to Seoul but I never got around to giving it to you." It's a very delicate necklace and it looks a little more expensive than the others. "And then the same year, when I started seeing someone else and didn't even tell you, I thought I should get you something as an apology and… a parting gift."

In the fancier box is a pair of stud earrings with tiny pearl drops.

"And then we kept seeing each other… and years passed and I realised I liked you… I wanted to make it official but… I was terrified," He confesses, "I was terrified of the commitment, I was terrified of what would happen if it didn't work out… But I got us matching rings, that never saw the light of day, of course," He laughs, the type of laugh that hides truer feelings.

The third box contained the matching couple rings.

You're speechless.

"And finally… when you came into my apartment… you got me out of my terrible, sorry state, you stayed by my side… Always did, but… Anyway– I–You said you loved me," He stares into your eyes and you are filled with so much emotion, he is sincere, you can feel it. "And I realised I loved you, too."

From the way your legs turn into jelly at the very sound of those words, you are so thankful for being sat.

"So I bought these rings and I scheduled a meeting with my company to talk about my future wedding. That's when my old PR manager went batshit on how it would ruin my career and decided to fuck me over… And it took me months to fix everything and make sure that we wouldn't have any problems," He raises his head to look at you, "So I came to visit and you were pregnant and I was. So. Happy…" His voice trails off. "I never wanted to marry you faster than right then and there. But then, you know what happened."

"Are you… fucking serious?"

His big brown eyes that more often than not prove themselves to be the bane of your existence glance away from your face.

Seungkwan readies himself for the incoming flurry of teasing that should come.

But it doesn't.

And then he raises his head, only to see that your face has contorted into a very ugly frown as you try to will your tears back into your eyes.

"What?" His face softens immediately and he's on you the very next second, reaching for your hands.

"I can't believe it," You hiccup.

"What's wrong?"

You can barely formulate coherent sentences with the turmoil that clouds your brain.

Seungkwan liked you.

For much longer than you could even fathom, he cherished you and the whole time you just thought he maybe tolerated your presence for the sake of getting into your pants. And all those years of suppressing your stupid feelings had culminated in this: a drawer full of unopened jewelry and erased love.

You can't help the very self-deprecating thoughts that tell you: you should've been braver.

"Baby, what's wrong?" His voice is soft and loving and stupid.

"Don't call me baby!" You wail, throwing your arms around his neck in a very confusing turn of events.

He does comfort you with light taps to your back.

"All this time," You hiccup, "I liked you and you liked me back and I kept hiding it because I was stupid! I'm sorry I said I didn't want to marry you."

"No, you… You were right to protect yourself," he shushes your cries. "I never proved myself to be someone very… Relationship worthy."

"No!" You shake your head, "I should've just… told you."

"Look… I was a dumb kid… I was terrified of being real with my feelings once I realised I liked you… And the longer I waited, the harder it got."

You nod.

"When you said "I love you"… It just felt like everything was coming together, y'know?"

"I do! I do love you!"

He smiles, hands reaching to cup your face.

"I wanted to marry you, I wanted to marry you so bad! But I was scared! I was scared you were only marrying me because I got pregnant!"

Seungkwan reaches to wipe your tears away.

"I thought if we got married for the baby, you'd grow to resent us both…"

"I could never resent you… Or our daughter."

"Oh, please, how was I supposed to know?!"

He laughs, "I should've told you I loved you. I should've told you I loved you and I wanted to marry you out of love."

"Tell me you love me again," You plea.

"I love you."

You can barely contain the stupid smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

"I love you so much, Kwannie. I have loved you for so long…"

Seungkwan adjusts himself, pushing you back into a sitting position. He returns to his kneeling position on the floor and clears his throat.

"Marry me?"

Your dumbfounded stare goes for a bit longer than you wished for, enough to make him nervous another rejection was coming. But you break out into the world's most beautiful smile while you happily shout.

"Yes!"

"Oh, thank God."

Maybe it took a bit longer than most for you to find each other. But in the end, you had your future husband, your perfect baby and soon a dreamy home.

Seungkwan would announce his nuptials and upcoming paternity and receive a lot of love from the public. Many saw it as a show of maturity and trustworthiness, which did end up helping his career. Speaking of, he did go on a very long break as soon as you entered your third trimester, present at every waking moment. Except for when he almost passed out when you went into labour.

Parenthood hadn't been quite a challenge, not when you had each other. Your daughter was the sweetest, quietest little baby and such a cuddlebug. She always greeted her mummy and daddy with that toothless grin and sweet giggles, which made it very hard to think of stopping at just one kid.

You would return to teaching, balancing your family and work life and Seungkwan would come back to the spotlight. You two settled into the routine easily, picking up where the other needed.

Although life was different from as it was when you were younger, it wouldn't be hard to make do when you had each other. The future never looked as bright.

Since the very beginning, it had always been you and him against the world.

And until the very end, so it will be.

132 notes · View notes

the-empress-7 · 4 months ago

Note

Harry's reasons for falling out with his family change every few days, like flavour of the month. Depending on what he fancies (and maybe what brand of weed he is smoking up).

So far, the reasons Harry has given for the rift with his brother and father are :

- because the grey men specifically hated him.

- because he was the queens favourite

- because he was the spare and everyone only cared about William the heir.

- because Meghan was more liked, popular, intelligent, smart and more popular in Australia.

- because William and Catherine didn't welcome Meghan warmly enough

- because his father was horrible to his mother and then got married to the evil stepmother.

- because the evil stepmother was evil and he was the only one who saw through it, so they banished him.

- because William was jealous of him, because of how smart, beloved, heroic, handsome he, Harry, was.

- because he was ginger, and the world is anti-ginger

- because he was the only real, true, hero army soldier who caught in a war so both William and Charles (and the grey men) were jealous of him.

- because he was the only one who was truly empathetic and connected with the plebs, so they were all jealous of him.

- because he was Diana's true heir, so they had to throw him out of the country.

- because he started talking about his mental health and the royals dint want that.

- because he was full-blown mental and the royals couldn't have that

- because Invictus was so popular that all other royals were jealous of his most famous patronage, and all other patronages of other people were boring

- because all the normal people and celebs and tech people and war veterans and mummy's ghosts etc liked him more so everyone was jealous

-because Catherine was jealous of Meghan for her beauty and brains and normal-ness

- because Catherine was racist

- because both William and Catherine were racist

- because Catherine, William and Charles were racists

- because the BRF was racist towards the unborn Sussex baby

- because Meghan was friends with Oprah

- because everyone hated Meghan for being american

- because everyone hated Meghan for being an actress

- because William always stole Harry's ideas for royal patronages and Africa related work

- because Harry was better at polo and rugby so William was jealous

- because William always got more sausages and the bigger rooms at the places and everyone forgot harry

- because Harry wanted to break the generational curse of wearing suits and going to Eton and using cutlery and the BRF couldn't have that

- because the army liked him better so William was jealous

- because he was a helicopter pilot so William (an air force officer and air ambulance helicopter pilot, certified private pilot who still flies) was jealous of Harry.

- because the staff liked Meghan better so Catherine and willi were jealous

- because all the patronages wanted Meghan to be their patron so Catherine was jealous

- because the people and press liked Meghan and Harry better so Charles and Camilla were jealous

- because they didn't want their children to be raised royal so the BRf was angry

- because they wanted their children to be royal prince and princess and embrace their royal legacy so the BRf was insecure

- because the press was racist and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the UK public were racist and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the social media was racist and the BRF didywant to do anything

- because Meghan was suicidal and depressed and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the staff was incompetent and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the press always wrote horii le stories about Meghan for clickbait, to money off of her, and the BRF didn't want to do anything

- because the brf didn't want to correct false stories and issue statements as per Meghan's wishes

- because the BRF gave them shitty nott cott and then shitty frog cott, but not bigger, better, Apt 1A at KP like they did the cambs.

- because Meghan made better roast chicken, better lemon cakes, better everything than Catherine and so she had to be banished

- because Meghan was better at calligraphy and everyone wanted to see it, so she had to be banished

- because Meghan was serenas bff so Catherine and Pippa were jealous, so she had to be banished

I mean... I could go on. And this is just based off of whatever Harry and Meghan have themselves said at some point. Am I missing something?

Anon, it's not even noon here. Reading this made me want to reach for cocktail 🍸😭

BRAVO for putting this list together!

81 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 2 months ago

Text

What am I Going to Do With You?

Summary: An investigative reporter involved in an altercation worries about the reaction from her boss and boyfriend, media mogul Bucky Barnes.

Length: 3.6 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, John Walker, Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton.

Warnings: language, power imbalance, age difference (Bucky is 40, OFC is 29), fears of infidelity.

Author notes: Sometimes a writer struggles with inspiration and sometimes it comes from out of the blue. The inspiration for this story came from the photoshoot Sebastian did for Entertainment Weekly, promoting The Apprentice. Several pictures gave me a media mogul vibe and I went from there. What happens after the ending is left to your imagination. Go wild.

I sat there beside the sergeant's desk, waiting to be released after being bailed out, worrying about Bucky's reaction when he got up there. It wasn't my fault this time. It really wasn't, but I knew that wasn't going to wash with him. This time he wouldn't be able to keep it out of the news as it was already going viral over social media. The door behind me opened, making me turn in curiosity, and John Walker came out, still holding an ice bag to his nose. Shaking my head, I faced forward, ignoring him.

"You broke my fucking nose," he whined, as he passed me, looking back as I sat there.

"You're lucky I didn't break more," I answered, the fire within me flaring up again. "Next time, maybe you'll think twice about bullying some kid because you didn't get your exact favourite brand of fucking still water. God, you're such a dickwad."

"John, let it go," said his lawyer, guiding him towards the door out of the office. "You can press civil charges for the injury."

"No, he can't!" I yelled, before the door closed. "He assaulted me. It's all over social media and all my friends saw him shove me first."

The sergeant at the desk glared at me and I sat back in my chair, then repositioned the ice bag on my right hand. I probably broke something on Walker's stupid nose. Then the door into the office opened, and Bucky walked in. He just stood there for the longest moment with that look on his face, the one that told me I really fucked up good this time. It wasn't an angry look, but it was disappointed and that, more than anything, upset me. I could feel the tightness begin in my throat and then my lips began to tremble. Clamping my jaw down I suppressed the urge to cry, not because I didn't want to but because if I did, any one there could take a picture of me, and it would go out on social media with the tags #Bucky Barnes girlfriend arrested again #how many times is too many? #is this the end for Bucky and Skye?

He looked so good as well, wearing clothes I helped pick out. The oversized tweed jacket paired with the black slacks, mint green dress shirt and deep brown tie was something else. Prada really suited him. He smiled at the sergeant, offering him the receipt for my bail.

"Did a paramedic check Ms. Knight's hand?" he asked.

The sergeant nodded. "She refused treatment. They thought she might have broken it." He looked over at me. "She's been okay here, except when Walker came out."

Bucky smirked. "Yeah, assholes have that effect on her. Are we good here?"

The sergeant smiled and handed Bucky his receipt back as well as my purse. With an audible exhale he came over to me and kneeled down, gently removing the ice bag from my right hand, then inspecting it himself.

"Does it hurt?" I nodded. "Come on, I'll take you to the clinic to get it x-rayed."

"The clinic, really?"

I was being a brat, I know, but he put the ice bag back on my hand and stood up, waiting for me.

"Skye, you know that every use of the clinic provides funding for the free clinic in Bed-Stuy. It's late, we're both tired and they can see you and treat you within an hour. Put your outrage somewhere else for a moment."

He was right. He usually was and he never crowed about it or made it into a big deal. It was one of the things I loved about him. After holding the office door open for me, he pressed the elevator button, then allowed me to go in first, his hand slightly on the small of my back. The door closed on us.

"Do you want to hear what happened?"

"I know what happened," he answered calmly. "Nat called me, and you know that she never sugar coats it. There are enough videos on Snapchat, Instagram, and X to make a movie about it."

"Are you mad at me?" His calm demeanour was getting to me.

"Mad? Why would I be mad? You stood up to a bully who was trying to get a kid fired for being the one who told him they didn't have his favourite brand of still water."

"But I hit him. Broke his nose, probably."

A slight smile appeared on Bucky's face. "He pushed you before you did hit him, so it was self-defence." He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. "I'm not mad. I am concerned that you wasted a punch on that asshole and not on someone who matters." He breathed out. "Not that there's going to be a repeat of this, right?"

He gazed at me; his blue eyes dominant on his bearded face. It was the same face he used in business as owner / CEO of an entertainment company that was a major player in news, movies, and television programming. That face was rarely used on me but when it was, I knew he meant it. I nodded my head, thoroughly chastened.

"Now, there are news crews outside the precinct, including some of my own people," he said. "They're going to be pushing you for a statement. I can speak for you if you wish but if you choose to say something, don't be inflammatory. John Walker might be an asshole but there are still powerful people who support him and don't like it when he's shown in a negative light. They can drag your name through the mud, and by extension, mine. I can handle it, so you don't have to protect me. I'll protect you as much as I can, but I can't be seen giving you preferential treatment as you're still an employee and there is a power imbalance between us. Accusations of favouritism because you're my girlfriend take away from your own abilities and I won't be accused of that."

I smiled a little. He was protective of me, but I got my job because I was good at it, not because I was sleeping with him. In fact, I had my job before I ever met him, and we didn't sleep together for almost two months after we started dating. For a few moments before the elevator door opened, I remembered the night we met. For two years I had been working as an investigative reporter for an affiliate station in the east, going to bat for people up against uncaring bureaucracies, or helping those who fell between the cracks when they were dealing with assholes who took their money but didn't deliver the goods. I was nominated for a national news award and went to New York for the awards ceremony. It was an open bar, and I lined up to order a drink. Just as I got to the front, I heard a man's voice.

"May I buy you a drink?"

"It's an open bar," I said, before turning to face the voice, then almost falling down at the sight of the man next to me.

His chestnut hair was longish but well styled, and his close clipped beard with the slightest bit of grey in it was definitely attractive. He wore an Armani tuxedo, Cartier watch, and shoes that probably cost more than I made in a month. It was his eyes that captured me the most, as the blue grey hue stood out in their intensity. Then he smiled and I was lost.

"It is an open bar," he agreed, "but for a bit extra I can promise you a better quality champagne, or whatever you want. My treat."

"Champagne, then," I answered.

He nodded at the bartender and held up two fingers, then pulled out his wallet. Producing a black card with no writing on it, he touched the terminal and slid the card back into its spot, pulling out a hundred-dollar bill for the tip jar. At first, I thought it was a bit of an extravagant display of wealth, but he looked at my face and chuckled.

"I'm not showing off. It's the smallest bill I have but is appropriate for the price of this champagne."

He handed me my glass, then took his and ushered me over to a spot beside a large plant. Before he could introduce himself, another man noticed him and joined us.

"James, you made it." He glanced at me. "You brought a date?"

"We don't know each other," I said quickly. "He just bought me a drink."

"Tony, this is Skye Knight," replied Bucky. "She works at one of my affiliate stations and is up for a national award in investigative reporting. Miss Knight, this is Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, parent company of Red Iron Media. I'm James Barnes, technically your boss."

He knew who I was. I opened my mouth to say something but all that came out was a hurried thank you for the drink. As the two men began talking business, I realized I was in over my head and quickly interrupted them to say I saw someone I knew and excused myself. As soon as I was out of view (or so I thought) I downed my champagne and escaped to the ladies' room, where I promptly hyperventilated. A red headed woman glanced at me.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I said, unconvincingly. "I just embarrassed myself in front of James Barnes and Tony Stark. No biggie."

She chuckled, then offered me her hand. "Natasha Romanov, I work for Mr. Barnes. You shouldn't be intimidated by him. He's one of the good ones. Stark isn't bad either."

"Skye Knight," I replied. "I didn't recognize either of them."

"You're up for an investigative reporting award," she said. "Mr. Barnes was very pleased that someone with a regional station was nominated. He's always pleased when the news division does well. Don't worry about it." She looked at her watch. "We should be taking our seats. If I remember correctly, you're sitting at Mr. Barnes' table. He's probably already there, wondering where we are."

It was at that moment of reliving that night that the elevator door opened, and the flashes of photographers began, even though they were still outside, crowded around the glass doors. Bucky looked at me.

"Ready?"

I nodded and he guided me out into the press of people. There were questions about what happened and if I was injured. Then the questions were thrown at Bucky.

"How do you feel about your star reporter being involved in an altercation with John Walker? When he came out earlier, he hinted at a possible civil suit against you and Skye."

He looked out over the assembly then at me. His stoicism was impressive as he gave no sign that he was bothered by any of it.

"I commend Ms. Knight for trying to stand up for an individual who was being bullied. When John Walker became belligerent enough to push her, she reacted as anyone would when feeling threatened. It's not the first time he has been accused of bullying behaviour. The videos of bystanders show that he was the aggressor by assaulting her first. I stand by Ms. Knight as a valued member of our news services and will defend her right to intervene when she sees someone being bullied."

There were several more questions and although I did speak, my hand started to hurt. When one of the photographers brushed up against me, I cried out and Bucky immediately shielded me, then asked for the reporters to clear so he could take me for medical attention. Clint was there with the car, and he came forward, clearing a path for us until we could get in the back seat.

"Straight to the clinic please," said Bucky, then he turned to me. "You should have said something. I would have cut that circus short."

I didn't reply, but I did begin to cry because I was almost at my limit, and Bucky put his arm around me, murmuring I would be okay. His sympathy was almost worse than his disappointment. Soon, we were at the clinic, and he escorted me in where I was whisked away for an x-ray. When I was brought back to an examining room, Bucky was waiting for me. Less than 10 minutes later, I was given a shot for the pain, then Dr. Banner came in and confirmed I broke a bone in my hand.

"Boxer's fracture," he said. "We'll have to reduce it before we splint and wrap your hand. It will take about six weeks to heal and another six weeks for you to get your strength back. No boxing, obviously, but you should avoid using it at all. That includes computer use."

I groaned a little, but he just smiled at me then left to prepare the kit to wrap up my hand.

"After you heal up, you're taking boxing lessons to learn how to hit properly," said Bucky, before Dr. Banner returned.

"I thought you said I couldn't do that anymore," I replied, sarcastically.

"You still need to know how to defend yourself and it's great exercise." He crossed his legs at the knee. "How do you think I keep my girlish figure?"

He was grinning when he said that which almost made me laugh. Dr. Banner and a nurse returned to tend to me. Even with the painkiller it hurt when he reset the bone, but as he wrapped my hand up after fitting the splint, the compression helped relieve some of it. He recommended more ice packs and gave me two days worth of strong pain killers, saying I should be okay with over-the-counter medication after. Bucky shook his hand, then walked me out to the car, where Clint hopped out and opened the back door for us.

"Home?" he asked.

Bucky nodded. I leaned against him, then placed my uninjured hand on his. He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb as we rode. It was almost 2 am when Clint pulled up to the tower.

"I won't be going in tomorrow," Bucky said. "I'll telecommute. Take the day, sleep in, have lunch with your wife and I'll see you the day after."

"Sure thing," replied Clint, then he opened the back door for us and waited until we were inside the lobby door before driving off.

On the way up in the elevator, my mind wandered again as Bucky checked his phone. He smirked a few times.

"Walker's people are trying to spin it that you were drunk," he said. "The people aren't buying it. He didn't even have a reservation at the restaurant and bullied the maître d' into giving him and his entourage a table. Several people who were there are saying he was rude well before you got there. I'll get Steve to make a call to him, remind him that if the general public found out about his side pieces that it could get ugly for him."

"Do you have any side pieces?" I blurted out, as the pain killers had taken effect and loosened my tongue.

He had been married before and was separated when we met, although I wouldn't go out with him until his divorce from Sharon was finalized. My question must have surprised him because he said nothing, making me wonder if I was now the one living in denial. When the elevator door to the penthouse opened, I walked straight to our bedroom and got changed, after cleaning my face with one hand. That was fun. When I came out, wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else, Bucky was sitting in a leather armchair, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up.

"Come here," he said, softly, patting his lap.

I knelt on the floor in front of him, unwilling to sit where he wanted me. With a bit of a frown, he rested his head on his hand, and gazed intently at me. I knew that what I said bothered him as the crease between his brow returned after disappearing during the car ride.

"Why did you say that?" he asked, watching my face intently.

I shrugged. "I'm feeling a little loopy, I guess. It just came out."

"Have I done anything to make you think that I'm cheating on you?"

"No, never. Forget I said it."

"I can't," he replied. "I'm bothered you would think that of me." He leaned closer, taking my face in his hands. "What am I going to do with you?"

I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I uttered something borne out of my own insecurities.

"Are you going to break up with me?"

He pulled me up into his lap, enclosing me with his arms and kissing my face all over. Then he made sure I was looking directly at him.

"No, I love you," he replied, his voice cracking slightly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Why do you think I would want to break up with you?"

I frowned and looked away. "Social media tags. It seems that I'm often making the news instead of reporting on it and people say that at some point it will make us break up."

"Fuck social media. They don't know how much I love you. Making the news comes with the job. It has since we started dating. You remember the night we met, right?" I nodded. "Remember how you ran from me and Tony because you were so intimidated?" I looked at him in surprise. "I knew. You looked like a deer in the headlights. It was adorable and I knew then that I wanted to know you. Then you found out I was separated from Sharon but not divorced and refused to go out with me until it got finalized. Didn't stop the gossip rags and bloggers from making stuff up about us. You won that award and suddenly the pictures of us having that drink were being paraded as proof that we were together. They even said that Tony and I shared you as a girlfriend. You don't know how many lawsuit threats I made on your behalf when I became aware they were going to sully your name for breaking up my marriage."

"Are you serious? How come I didn't know about this?"

"Because I had your back." A soft look came over his face as he gazed at me. "Maybe, we should give them something real to talk about."

"Like what?"

He shifted a little, reaching into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a small box. My heart flipped when I saw it and I could barely breathe.

"I've been carrying this around for a few weeks now, waiting for the right moment. I could have sprung for a room full of flowers in front of all of our friends, and cases of that champagne I bought you the night we met but that's been done before. How many guys ask their girlfriends to marry them after they've broken their hand, punching an asshole in the nose because he was bullying someone? You're authentic, Skye. You live life to the fullest, you stick up for anyone who needs your help, your principles are beyond reproach, and you make me feel like I'm 30 again, instead of the 40-year-old man that I am. I love everything about you, and I don't want to wait any longer. Would you marry me?"

I hadn't even seen the ring yet, as the box was still closed but I looked into his eyes and saw what I saw every moment I ever spent with him. He loved me, a 29-year-old woman raised by a single mother, who taught me to always stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves. I grew up in a trailer park and wore clothes from thrift stores. Bucky was born into old money wealth, attended private schools, and an Ivy League college. But he was also raised by a single mother, widowed with four children, and grew up not taking anything for granted. He volunteered in food banks and soup kitchens and used his wealth to help those who barely had enough to live on. Now, he wanted me to be with him forever.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

He opened the ring box displaying a ring with an enormous solitaire diamond. Big, yes but simple and beautiful. It fit perfectly then he kissed me, deeply but slowly, as his hands held me firmly on his lap. We sat there for some time, admiring the ring and each other until he stood up and carried me bridal style to the bed.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked once again, as he loosened then removed his tie, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"Whatever you want," was my answer, as the rest of his clothes were abandoned.

"I want you, always," he said, joining me on the bed, his blue eyes darkened with desire.

Always, I liked the sound of that.

One Shots Masterlist

Please support the writer by reblogging.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #james buchanan barnes oneshot #social media #no smut

67 notes · View notes