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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.

I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.

CW for ✨spice✨

You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.

That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.

But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.

You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.

On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.

When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.

“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.

Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”

And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)

At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.

The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”

Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.

“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.

“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.

Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.

On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.

At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.

“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.

Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.

He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.

The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.

You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.

“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.

“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”

You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.

There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.

He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.

“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”

Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.

You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.

He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.

He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.

He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.

“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”

You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.

“Talk to me?” he asks.

“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”

He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”

You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.

You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.

He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.

“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.

“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.

You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”

Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.

He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.

One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.

Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.

“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.

Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.

Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.

He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.

“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”

Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.

“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”

You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?

“Wait, but I already…”

“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”

“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”

You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.

You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.

“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”

You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #poly 141 #misters steal your girl #open relationship trope

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pascallftv · 1 year

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Headlines (Pedro Pascal x Reader)

summary: you and pedro had been close friends since the movie you shot together wrapped nearly a year ago. you decided to have game night with some friends at your apartment, but pedro stays behind after everyone’s left. a little too much wine and pent up feelings lead to the moment you’ve been fantasizing about for months.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT! 18+ age gap, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

MY MASTERLIST

You waved goodbye to the last two of your friends, closing the door behind them with a sigh of relief. Your social battery was running low after nearly 6 hours of card games, and probably an entire bottle of wine. You were sobering up, but you still felt a nice buzz. You closed your eyes and put a hand over your forehead, inhaling a deep breath.

“You okay?”

You turned towards the couch, your heart race picking up. You had totally forgotten that you had one straggler left: Pedro. But, you didn’t mind. You cherished alone time with him, which was something you hadn’t had recently. Both of your schedules were booked tight between press and various photo shoots to promote your latest projects. It had already almost been a year since the film you met on wrapped. On set, you and Pedro hit it off immediately. You both had the same goofy sense of humor, and fed off each other’s energy. You admired Pedro’s kind heart, and he admired yours.

You kept in touch after the film wrapped, texting and calling nearly every day, and meeting for coffee or lunch whenever you could. The only issue was you were in your mid twenties while Pedro was nearly fifty. Your innocent friendship didn’t translate well in news articles. It was impossible to have a platonic relationship with a male counterpart without it being misconstrued as an intimate relationship in the headlines. Deep down, the headlines enthralled you. You were sure Pedro didn’t feel the same way, but there was something about the fine lines by his eyes when he laughed at your jokes and the way he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you through doors made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him, but you knew you couldn’t act on them. There was no way Pedro would feel the same, let alone date someone who was half his age. Yet here he was, alone with you in your apartment in the middle of the night, both of you tipsy.

“Yeah, just tired.” You responded, sending him a reassuring smile, walking towards his spot on the couch.

He was slouched back in the couch, his legs spread comfortably in front of him. His arm was draped across the back of the couch, his other hand propped on his thigh holding a glass of wine.

“Come here.” He said, patting the cushion next to him. You wasted no time sitting down next to him, the musky smell of his cologne engulfing your senses. He returned his arm to the back of the couch, placing it behind you head. You were sitting close enough to where his knee was barely touching yours, his body heat radiating through his tight jeans onto your bare skin.

“I haven’t had you alone like this in weeks. I miss this.” Pedro said, his big brown eyes staring down into yours. You know his words were innocent, but your mind went elsewhere. Your lower belly was taught with nerves. Why were you so nervous? You’ve never felt so on edge around Pedro.

“I’ve missed this too.” You muttered, your eyes glancing down at his lips subconsciously. You couldn’t help yourself.

“Is something bothering you? You seem nervous.” Pedro furrowed his eyebrows. He brought his arm down to cradle your shoulders, rubbing soft circles into your shoulder with his thumb. His touch littered your skin with goosebumps, and you felt heat beginning to grow between your thighs.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Pedro didn’t believe you. He could sense how tense your body was. Your fists were curled up in your lap, and you were avoiding eye contact. It worried him. Had he done something to make you uncomfortable? The thought sent a pang through his chest. He cared about you so deeply, the last thing he wanted was to see you so on edge around him. He couldn’t help but wonder if the news headlines were affecting your friendship.

“Is it the headlines? You know those journalists are full of shit. They’ll makeup whatever they can to get clicks.” Pedro said, angling his body towards you. You glanced up at him, shaking your head.

“No, it’s not that.” You said, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“If you’re worried about people thinking we’re together, we can keep our distance. I understand.” Pedro said quietly, his hand leaving your shoulder. Your stomach dropped at the loss of touch.

“Distance is the last thing I want, Pedro. It’s just..” You began, averting your eyes to your hands in your lap. You didn’t know what to say. Your feelings for him were bubbling up and you wanted to tell him everything so badly, but you didn’t have the courage. There was no way he would feel the same, and you couldn’t risk losing his friendship.

“Just what?” Pedro questioned, taking a sip of his wine before setting his glass on the coffee table. “I’m not ashamed of you. I don’t care what anyone in the media has to say about us. At the end of the day, our friendship is more important than some fucking random journalist’s clickbait.”

Your eyes returned to his. His doe eyes were soft and full of care. You loved his eyes so fucking much. You took a deep breath. You suddenly built up the courage.

“I’m not ashamed of you either. I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared of the headlines. They scare the fuck out of me. I know we’re just friends, but what if the rumors start affecting your gigs? I couldn’t let that happen to you.” You began. “I saw a headline the other day claiming that we’re hooking up and that you’re old enough to be my father. Does that not concern you?”

Pedro furrowed his eyebrows once again and stared down at your face that was full of concern. In all honesty, he had seen all the headlines, but they excited him. He was to the age now where he didn’t give a fuck about headlines. No matter who he associates himself with, he’ll face backlash of some sort. Why veer from the people who make him the happiest? You had made him the happiest he had been in years. You were young, but you were so incredibly wise, caring, kind, and unbelievably funny. He wanted more than anything to take it to the next level with you, but he was so much older than you. You were not only an amazing person, but you were gorgeous; you could pull anyone you wanted, so he felt intimidated. Why would you choose him over someone closer to your age?

“I couldn’t give a fuck less about those headlines. Would it really be that embarrassing if those headlines were true?” Pedro said, his hand finding its way back to your shoulder. Your heart felt like it was going to pound through your chest. Did you hear him correctly?

You were speechless. You gawked up at him with parted lips. You didn’t know how to respond. Of course you wouldn’t be embarrassed, you’d actually be quite content if those rumors were true.

“If I’m being completely honest with you, I wish they were true.” Pedro voice filled your silence. Your stomach was doing backflips. His hand moved from your shoulder to your jaw, his fingers tracing along your chin, his eyes admiring every detail of your face. Your body began to give into his, your torso angling towards his subconsciously.

“Can I kiss you?” Pedro whispered, his hand burrowing into the hair at the back of your head.

You’d forgotten how to speak, so you nodded vigorously instead. That’s all Pedro needed.

His lips crashed into yours, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling your body into his. Your lips moved in sync, not too soft, but not too harsh, just needy enough. You’d been fantasizing this moment since the moment you met Pedro all those months ago. Your hands migrated to the back of Pedro’s neck, then to his chest. God, he felt so fucking good in your hands.

In one quick motion, Pedro lifted you into his lap, deepening the kiss. His tongue entered your mouth, grazing along your teeth and tongue. You felt high off his scent mixed with the sheer passion behind his touch. Any sense of doubt of his feelings for you were long gone. Your hips grinded down into his lap, your center meeting his already hardening erection. It ignited a fire deep in your abdomen, and you let out a breathy moan at the sensation. Pedro pulled away from your kiss for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He breathed out, his hands running down the length of your back to your backside. He firmly gripped the flesh of your ass through your thin shorts and brought your hips down harder into his. He tilted his head back against the couch with a moan. His erection met your clit through your shorts, making you suck in a fast breath.

“Fuck, I need you to touch me.” You muttered, pressing your forehead to his. You were both breathing heavy, your lips ghosting each other.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Pedro said lowly, his hands spreading your ass through your shorts. His hips bucked up into yours, your head flying back in arousal.

“Touch me.” You began, grabbing his dominant hand. “Here.”

You brought his hand down to the front of your shorts, making him cup your heat. You were throbbing so intensely that it hurt. You weren’t wearing panties, and you were sure you were going to soak through your thin, cotton shorts soon. Pedro wasted no time in pushing your shorts to the side, his fingers brushing along your core. You were completely soaked, his fingers becoming slick with arousal.

“Jesus christ, you’re fucking soaked.” Pedro grunted, his fingertip brushing your clit. You jolted from the sensation, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep yourself steady. You were so fucking desperate for his touch. Your face fell into the crevice of his neck, the smell of his cologne became more intense.

Pedro placed his lips to the side of your neck, peppering soft kisses to your sweet skin. He reached his free hand into your hair while his occupied hand slowly ran a finger through your drenched folds. He breathed heavily, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.” He whispered, pushing a finger inside of you. You whimpered, pushing down onto his finger, craving more. Your hands wound up in his hair, pulling at the strands at the base of his neck. His tilted his head back, staring up into your lustful gaze. He added another finger, and your mouth formed an “o” shape, with a quiet moan escaping your lips.

You pressed your lips back to his. Your kiss was full of desperation. You had never felt so fucking turned on in your life, and you just wanted him as close to you as possible. You pressed your chest firmly against his, and grinded down against his fingers. His hand left your hair, and lowered to your chest. He took one of your clothed breasts into his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. His fingers suddenly left your entrance, making you sigh at the lack of contact. He grabbed the bottom of your shirt, and lifted it upwards. You raised your arms, helping him take the shirt off of you. He wasted no time in unclasping your bra, tossing it mindlessly onto the floor somewhere. Your nipples were rock hard, your piercings on display. Pedro’s eyes lowered to your nipples, a moan leaning his lips at the sight of your piercings.

“Holy fuck.” He groaned, taking your breasts into his hands, lowering his mouth down to one of your nipples. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on the sensitive flesh while he played with the piercing between his fingertips on your other nipple.

While he was occupied with your tits, you raised your hips slightly to pull down your shorts. You needed bare contact immediately. Pedro lifted you off his lap and onto the cushion beside him, and stood up from the couch. He began unbuttoning his jeans. As good as those jeans looked on him, you needed them off. You were surprised to see he was also sporting no underwear. You bit your lip as he slid the jeans down his legs, his erection breaking free. He was so fucking thick, pre-cum dripping from his tip. He pressed a hand to your chest, laying you down into the back of the couch, your feet on the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it on the floor next to your other disregarded clothing.

Pedro knelt down between your legs, prying your thighs open with his hands. He wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs, lowering his face towards your heat. His eyes flickered from yours down to your folds. You were glistening with arousal. He lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, peppering it with kisses. He was taking his sweet time, teasing every ounce of desperation out of you. You whimpered impatiently. You gasped when you felt his hot breath hovering over your heat. He flicked his tongue once through your folds, getting a taste of you.

“Pedro, please. Touch me.” You begged, running your hand through his chocolate curls.

Pedro’s lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue flicking quickly against it. You moaned and threw your hand back into the couch, your hand tugging the roots of his hair. Pedro worked your clit with his tongue while he brought his fingers back to your opening, slipping two inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing out in relief. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling up inside of you, hitting your g spot perfectly.

“Fuck, Pedro.” You whined, struggling to keeps your thighs apart. Pedro squeezed the flesh of your thigh with his free hand, moaning into your core from the grip you had on his hair. The vibrations from his moan sent you into a frenzy. Your lower abdomen was filled with fire. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, which you probably would’ve been embarrassed of if you weren’t so blindsided by pleasure.

Pedro inserted a third finger into you, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your moans. You were never this vocal, but you couldn’t control it. You were so overwhelmed with sensations. Pedro grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away from your mouth. Pedro’s mouth left your clit, flicking it with his tongue one last time before pulling away.

“I want to hear you.” He said, pinning you hand to your side. Your chest heaved, you were out of breath.

“Fuck me, please. I need you closer.” You whimpered, reaching down to his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft. He groaned at how soft your hand felt against him as you began to stroke his tip. As good as your hand felt wrapped around him, he needed to be inside of you.

Pedro lifted you up into his arms, carrying you away from the couch and into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. Your head fell back into your pillow as you watched him crawl up between your legs. He ran a hand up to your chest, squeezing your breast while his other hand guided his cock to ghost over your folds. You were throbbing again, your hips bucking up towards his cock. He bent down and kissed you passionately. He took your bottom lip between his teeth for a split second before pulling away.

“Ready, baby?” He said softly, pushing his tip between your folds, barely pressing your entrance.

“Yes.” You breathed out, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again.

“I want you to watch.” Pedro pulled away, lowering his gaze to where he was teasing your entrance with his cock. Your stare followed his. He slowly began to push into you, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. He was stretching you so fucking perfectly. He pushed halfway into you before stopping for a moment, tracing his hand down the length of your torso before landing his thumb at your clit, working in soft circles. Your legs trembled, clenching around his hips and he pushed into you fully. You felt so fucking full.

He started to move, thrusting into you in rhythmic strokes, his fingers still working your clit. You were already approaching your orgasm. Your head felt cloudy with pleasure, your entire body completely overcome. Your eyes rolled back into you head as he picked up the pace, fucking you hard and fast. Your first orgasm hit you like a train, your vision going white. Your walls clenched around him, coating his cock with your cum. Before you had time to recover, Pedro flipped you over onto your knees, slamming into you from behind.

“Fuck!” You gasped, fisting the sheets for leverage while Pedro relentlessly fucked into you. His hand came down in a smack against your ass, then grabbed your cheeks and spread them apart, getting a full view of him sliding in and out of you. He brought his thumb down to your tightest hole, slowly ghosting the rim of it.

“You feel so fucking good.” Pedro moaned, his thumb pressing against your asshole, but not penetrating it. His other hand ran up your spine, grabbing your shoulder as leverage to pound harder into you. You were seeing stars and he filled you up completely, hitting the deepest part of you over and over.

“Can you cum for me again, baby?” Pedro whimpered, his thrusts becoming sloppier. “I’m so fucking close, but I need you to cum with me.”

“I’m close.” You whined, you hand reaching back to hold his against the flesh of your ass cheek. Your touch was enough to send Pedro into overdrive. With the last of his energy, he began slamming into you as hard and fast as he could, his fingers lowering to your clit, rubbing fast circles. You couldn’t handle it. You bit down on your free hand, uncontrollably whimpering into your skin. You’ve never felt this much pleasure in your life and you thought you could pass out.

Your second orgasm hit harder than the first. You threw your head back, letting out a loud moan, tears filling your eyes. Your walls clenched hard around Pedro’s cock, sending him closer to his orgasm. You came hard, your toes curling at the overwhelming pleasure. Your limbs felt numb, and you swore you forgot how to think. Pedro gripped your hips hard, his strokes slowing down as his orgasm grew closer. He slid out of you and flipped you over again onto your back.

“I want to see your pretty face when I cum.” He moaned, sliding back inside of you. You grabbed his face with tired arms and brought his head down so you could kiss him. One of your hands dropped to his throat, gently squeezing the sides of it. Pedro whined, a hand flying to your breast to squeeze.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Pedro whimpered, his sweaty forehead meeting yours.

He quickly pulled out of you as his orgasm hit. He came in thick ropes over your abdomen as he stroked himself, milking every last drop. He gave you a quick, breathless kiss, and stared down at his cum that littered your belly.

“You look so pretty with my cum all over you.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses all over you neck and collarbones. You ran you hands along his sweaty back, digging your fingertips into his hot skin and he panted into your neck. He left your neck to lower down to be eye level with your belly, and began licking up his mess. He gave your tits a gentle squeeze as he worked his tongue over your soft skin, cleaning up any remaining cum.

When he was finished, he peppered kisses back up your torso until his lips met your again for a sloppy, yet passionate kiss. He laid beside you, his fingers tracing up and down your belly, occasionally ghosting over your nipples. God, he loved those piercings.

“Looks like the journalists aren’t completely full of shit now.” Pedro grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled up at him with a giggle. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, giving him a kiss there.

“I think we might need to go another round just to make sure.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #tlou fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #joel miller #javier pena narcos #javier pena #pedro x reader

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sugarcoated-lame · 9 months

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Lost and Found | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Single Dad!Bradley x Reader

Part One of my Single dad!Bradley miniseries | part two | library blog

*all my works are 18+, minors DNI

Summary: When Bradley’s four-year old daughter goes missing during a trip to the mall, he doesn’t expect to find himself so taken with the pretty stranger who helps her find her way back to him.

WC: 3.6K

Warnings: I suck at titling my stories and summaries :), a bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy and abandonment, (briefly) missing child, mentions of anxiety/panic attack, but then so much fluff, Bradley’s kid being too cute for her own good, implied age gap, I feel like dilf Bradley needs his own warning

a/n: I wrote this months ago and I’m a bit nervous to share, but the response to the teaser was so amazing (thank you <3) and dilf Bradley lives in my head rent-free, so I’m excited about this one! Also the picture on the right just screams dad Bradley to me! Thank you for reading, as always I’d love to hear your feedback, so please leave a comment/reblog <3

• • •

Bradley directs his gaze away from the rack of little girls’ clothes he’d been perusing, injecting enthusiasm into his voice as he holds up a hanger with a small, baby pink t-shirt dress hanging on it. “Hey, Bug. What do you think of this–?”

He cuts himself off before the end of his question when he realizes that he’s talking to no one. “Where did she…?”

He trails off, brows furrowed. Still holding up the child-sized dress that looks especially tiny next to his large frame, Bradley spins around, perplexed. She was just here.

- - -

Bradley’s daughter, Caroline, who’d just recently turned four— and was growing up way too fast for his liking— was set to begin preschool next week. His little girl was growing right before his eyes and she needed a new wardrobe to accommodate that. So, Bradley had taken her to the mall to buy some new clothes for school. He didn’t know the first thing about little girls’ fashion, but he was sure he could manage.

He’d spent the last hour searching through clothing rack after clothing rack in the girl’s section of a department store, Caroline at his side, lips in a pout and shaking her little head ‘no’ at all of his choices, sandy brown curls bobbing along with her every movement. Bradley could tell the four-year old was getting bored, and he was becoming frustrated.

The buzzing of his phone with a text from Maverick granted him a brief reprieve from his predicament.

“One second, honey.” Bradley sighed, affectionately patting the top of his daughter’s head before looking toward his phone to answer some question Mav had about work.

He was happy for a moment’s distraction from getting ready to tear his hair out wondering if he was going to have to send his daughter to her first day of preschool wearing a trash bag because he didn’t know what the hell kind of clothes he’s supposed to buy for a picky four-year old girl.

Bradley had been a single parent for most of his daughter’s life. He and Caroline’s mother, Amber, had only been seeing each other for the better half of a year when they found out the news that they were expecting. And even then, their relationship was never really official.

The two met not long after the Uranium Mission, while Bradley was still on North Island taking some time to relax and awaiting another assignment. He’d gone to the little diner Amber was waitressing at, he thought she was cute and they’d hit it off straight away. Bradley got her number and the rest was history.

The Navy kept Bradley busy. He was always traveling for some assignment or deployments – sometimes gone for months at a time, so they only saw each other on the rare occasions he was in town.

They’d hang out and hook up, maybe go on a date here and there, a sort of friends-with-benefits situation. There was definitely a sense of care between Bradley and Amber, but the lack of time they were able to spend together meant it never went beyond that.

When they learned that Amber was pregnant, they both knew it wouldn’t be easy. But they thought that, together, they could make it work.

A few months after Caroline was born though, Amber admitted that she couldn’t handle things.

Bradley took to being a father so easily. From the moment their baby was born and she looked up at him with those big, honey brown eyes that matched his own, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. Caroline instantly became his world.

Amber, on the other hand, really struggled. She loved her baby of course, but deep down she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a mother. If she’d ever be.

She figured it was better if she’d gone while Caroline was still young enough that she wouldn’t remember her, and knew that their daughter would be just fine in Bradley’s loving hands. And just like that, she left the both of them.

Bradley resented Amber for a while, but in time he came to understand. Not everyone was meant to be a parent. Besides that, he knew that there was no time for resentment.

He was on his own with a four-month old baby and he needed to put all of his energy into taking care of her. So, he requested a more permanent position at Top Gun so that he could stay in one place to raise his daughter, and it’s been just the two of them ever since.

- - -

Bradley couldn’t have been turned around for more than thirty seconds before he pocketed his phone and reached back out to grab the little pink dress off the rack to show his daughter. But, when he turned back, Caroline was nowhere to be seen.

Ok, don’t panic, Bradley tells himself. She can’t have gone far.

“Caroline?” He calls out calmly, eyes darting around the surrounding area as he spins to look in every direction.

When he doesn’t receive a response, Bradley puts down the dress he was holding and begins to walk among the sea of clothing racks, still calling out his daughter’s name.

He searches the entire girl’s section of the store without success and decides to broaden his search, his heart beginning to speed up in his chest. Ok, he’s starting to panic.

Bradley picks up his pace, maneuvering from one section of the store to another, asking the other customers and few employees that mill about if they’ve seen his daughter.

He knows he must look crazed, practically sprinting, his sneakers squeaking as he moves across the shiny floors as his repeated calls of Caroline’s name become increasingly more frantic — panting and on the verge of tears by the time he’s finished searching the entirety of the large department store to no avail.

Bradley stands frozen in the middle of the store, tears pricking his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly on the brink of hyperventilating. He’s at a loss for what to do. His mind racing through all of the worst scenarios. What if she’s hurt? What if someone took her?

It’s his job to protect his little girl and make sure that she’s always safe, and he failed her. He’s all that Caroline has, and he feels like a failure of a father.

- - -

You’re walking through the busy mall with a couple of bags in hand, all finished with your shopping and ready to head home when you see her.

A little girl — tiny really, she can’t be older than five — with curls a golden shade bordering between both blonde and brown, standing by the bottom of the escalator, alone.

Playing with her little fingers as she looks around the crowd aimlessly with unshed tears in her big, brown eyes. The scared look on her adorable little face breaks your heart, and you know you can’t leave without making sure she’s okay.

You approach her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, speaking softly so as not to scare her any further. “Hey, honey. Are you alright?”

The look she gives you is a shy one, eyes widening before she looks down at her light-up sneakers and shakes her head.

You can tell the little girl is apprehensive about talking to a stranger — smart.

Kneeling down to be at her eye-level before speaking again, and setting your shopping bags down at your sides, you tell her your name and ask for hers.

“I’m Caroline.” Her voice is sweet and shy, a near-whisper as she chances a glance up at you, eyes still shining with tears when she lifts her head.

“Are you here alone, Caroline? Are you with your mommy and daddy?” You ask her gently.

She shakes her head again, curls swaying along with the motion. “I was with my daddy, but I lost him.”

The adorable pout on her lips might’ve made you smile, if it weren’t for the tears that follow, finally spilling from her eyes and trailing down onto her rosy cheeks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can help you find him!” You soothe as your thumb moves to brush her tears away. “Where did you last see him?”

Caroline sniffles and thinks for a moment before speaking, a little bit louder this time.

“We were buying me clothes for preschool in one of the big stores, and my daddy had to answer the phone so I was looking all by myself. And then I got lost and I couldn’t find him.”

You continue to wipe at Caroline’s tears as she talks in that rambling sort of way that all little kids do.

“Preschool, wow. That sounds fun!” You try to take her mind off of the scary situation for a second and she nods excitedly at that, still sniffling. “What’s your daddy’s name?”

Her tears finally begin to slow as she talks about her dad.

“His name’s Bradley, but everybody calls him Rooster! He flies planes!” Caroline explains excitedly.

You can’t help but chuckle as you tell her that her dad has a funny nickname, and that his job sounds fun. You’re happy to see Caroline give you a small smile back.

“Do you remember what store you and your daddy were shopping in?”

She has to think for a long moment, the most adorable, pensive pout you’ve ever seen on her face as she tries to remember.

She doesn’t know the name of the store, but she is able to describe it for you, and you’re able to make a distinction from there.

Standing back to your full height, you readjust your bags on one arm and extend your free hand out towards Caroline, offering her a reassuring smile.

“I know exactly where that is! Ready to go find him?” Caroline grins as she takes your hand with an excited nod, tears no longer visible in her big brown eyes.

The two of you walk on in search of her dad — Bradley, and Caroline talks your ear off the whole way. She is absolutely adorable, telling you more about herself and asking you questions about yourself too, and you find yourself falling more in love with her sweet disposition by the minute.

Within five minutes, you make it to the store that Caroline had been in last, hopeful to reunite her with her father who you figure must be worried sick.

- - -

Bradley isn’t quite sure how long he’s been scouring the massive department store looking for his four-year old daughter— though it feels like forever, time seeming to move in slow motion— on the brink of a panic attack and just about ready to phone the police when he hears a familiar high-pitched shriek of, “DADDY!”

He turns around at lightning speed — and practically gives himself whiplash — to see Caroline approaching him, holding a woman’s hand.

When she lets go and bounds right towards him, Bradley lets out a massive sigh of relief. Kneeling down to catch his little girl in his arms, he feels like he might cry all over again, overcome with a flurry of emotions now that his daughter is safe in his embrace once again.

“Caroline, baby, you scared me half to death!” Bradley can’t keep the emotion out of his voice as he lifts his daughter into his arms and stands back up to his full height, lying his head atop of hers and squeezing her tight. “You can’t just wander off like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

He tries his best not to sound angry — she is only four after all, and he’s just thankful that she’s okay. Caroline’s arms wrap around his neck as he holds her tight, her face burrowing into the crook of Bradley’s neck.

“Daddy, I’m fine!” She insists. “And I made a new friend!”

It’s only then that Bradley looks up at the woman who had reunited him with his little girl, standing a few feet away and watching them with a sweet smile.

Oh. It’s only then that he realizes, you are beautiful.

Bradley’s honestly convinced you might be an angel. Pretty, bright eyes and a glowing sweet smile that nearly takes his breath away. And, you’d been kind enough to help his daughter safely find her way back to him.

Bradley just stares for a moment, lips parted and still holding Caroline in his arms, and he hopes that you’ll chalk it up to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

“Uh– thank you so much for bringing Caroline back to me. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” He rushes out, hand cradling the back of his baby’s hair. “I-I’m…” Fuck, why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

“…Bradley,” You finish for him. “Or, Rooster. Right?”

His brows furrow, a pensive look on his very handsome face, a look that you realize matches the one you had seen on his daughter’s face earlier. Cute.

“How did you-” He begins to question how you know his name — and call-sign — but is promptly cut off by his four-year old practically screaming in his ear.

“I told her, Daddy!” Caroline exclaims proudly.

For a man called ‘Rooster’, you sure were not expecting Caroline’s dad to be this good looking. But, fuck, is he hot.

Though he’s clearly got a few years on you, Bradley’s all tall and sun-kissed, tan skin. Broad shoulders and big, muscular arms on display in his fitted black t-shirt while he holds up his little girl, sandy curls a shade or two darker than hers. Whiskey-colored eyes that match his daughter’s, that you can only describe as puppy dog eyes.

His deep, husky voice that sends tingles down your spine and beautifully shaped pink lips framed by a mustache that you’re surprised you find so attractive.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of help.” You hope that he can’t see the flush you can feel blooming on your cheeks as you speak. “And, Caroline was great company!”

You wink at the little girl who giggles against his shoulder, and when Bradley smiles at you graciously, you can’t help but smile back. God, his smile is pretty.

Up in his arms, Caroline gets distracted playing with her dad's curls. There are a few moments of silence between you, though not uncomfortable, before Bradley speaks up again.

“Well, thank you again. I–uh,” Bradley clears his throat.

“I guess we should let you go. We’ve gotta find some clothes for this little troublemaker, otherwise she’ll have to go to school wearing a garbage bag.” Bradley jokes in a playful tone, bouncing his daughter around in his arms as she giggles, and you can’t help but laugh too at the infectious sound.

“Daddy, wait!” Caroline shouts out before you can answer him.

“What is it, little bug?” Bradley murmurs as he strokes a hand lovingly over her curls. Caroline turns in his hold, directing her next question toward you.

“Can you come with us?” Oh, her puppy dog eyes are even cuter than Bradley’s, and you imagine he probably has a hard time ever saying no to her. “Daddy has no idea what he’s doing when it comes to girl clothes.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips as Caroline dramatically rolls her eyes and Bradley lets out an offended huff, the two of them staring at each other with matching, petulant pouts. Adorable.

“That is not true!” Bradley practically shrieks at his daughter and it only makes you laugh more.

“And, honey, she probably doesn’t want–” Bradley begins to protest before you interject.

“I’d love to.” You chime in with a coy grin and Bradley looks back at you, bewildered.

Sure, you figure he probably has a beautiful wife waiting for him at home, but what’s the harm in spending just a little more time with a handsome pilot and his adorable daughter? So far, you’re having a lot of fun.

Bradley’s brows furrow skeptically. “Are you…sure?”

You purse your lips, staring up toward the ceiling for a moment as if you really need to think about it before you grin and offer him a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

You hope you don’t seem too eager, but the matching smiles you receive from both Bradley and Caroline tell you they don’t mind.

Bradley’s honestly a bit shocked that you— a pretty, young, complete stranger, want to stick around to hang out with him and his kid, but he isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, once you assure him again that you’re happy to stay, he sets Caroline back on her feet and offers — more like insists — that he holds your shopping bags, and the three of you set off to peruse the oh-so daunting girl’s clothing section of the store once again.

Bradley watches in awe as Caroline grabs your hand, tugging you along as you help her pick out some articles of clothing.

The two of you chatter the whole time, bringing him into the conversations too, holding up articles of clothing and asking what he thinks, and Bradley is delighted to see how good you are with his daughter.

“This would look pretty on you!” Caroline holds out a little girl’s purple sweater dress in your direction. “Wouldn’t it, Daddy?”

You’re biting back a grin as Bradley looks to you and then back to his daughter and chuckles.

“I don’t think it comes in her size, Bug.” Bradley’s gaze returns to you, mirth in his eyes when he continues, “But yeah, it would look very pretty.”

You know he can see the obvious flush to your cheeks this time as his lips pull up into a smirk.

Shaking your head, you look back down to Caroline with a grin. “I think it’d look even prettier on your dad.” That pulls a giggle out of both of them.

Things go on like that as the three of you continue to shop, Bradley admiring how sweet and funny you are, how patient you are with his daughter.

The two of you discreetly sharing amused looks at some of the obscure things Caroline says that could only come out of a little kid’s mouth, banter coming easily between the three of you.

After a short while, Caroline has an array of new outfits for school— and a new stuffed animal after some begging and very convincing puppy dog eyes from his four-year old while you stood by and tried not to giggle, and Bradley knows that he wants to get to know you more.

He hasn’t done much in the way of dating since becoming a single father. Aside from the simple lack of time, Bradley’s always been afraid that most women won’t want to stick around when they find out he has a kid.

That they might not get along with his daughter or worse, be upset when they realize that Caroline will always be his number one priority.

Too scared to let his daughter get attached to someone only for them to leave, Caroline is his world and he’s been content with that.

But now, after seeing the way you are with his little girl — and in such a short time, he can’t help but think that he already likes you being a part of it.

With the clothing shopping done, the sun is setting by the time you're all ready leave the mall. Bradley and Caroline walk you out to your car, and both are reluctant to say goodbye to you just yet. You can't say you’re too happy to part with them either.

As he helps you put your bags in the trunk of your car, Bradley knows he needs to take his shot now — or as Hangman likes to tell him, he needs to get off his perch.

“Hey, could I possibly get your number?” Bradley asks, trying to sound as confident as his voice can possibly muster. “I’d love to see you again.”

Caroline pipes up from next to you, jumping up and down while she still holds your hand. “Me too!”

Is he asking you out? The breathless laugh you let out is one of shock, and you’re sure the look on your face matches as you glance between the adorable father-daughter duo.

You’re also sure that you’re blushing again.

For a moment, you can only stand frozen, lips parted, and when you realize you’ve yet to answer his question, you promptly close your mouth and attempt to school your features, quickly nodding your head.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You tell him shyly, and Bradley can’t help but smirk at the color that’s begun to paint your cheeks.

He hands over his phone and tries not to smile too hard as you type in your number, glancing up at him and biting back your own grin while you send yourself a text so that you’d have his too.

You kneel down to squeeze Caroline into a hug, the little girl happily wrapping her arms around your neck. You leave her with a promise that you’ll see them again soon, though the way you look up at her father over her shoulder lets Bradley know that that promise is directed at the both of them.

When you stand, Bradley gazes at you with a thoughtful smile before bringing you into a hug too.

“Have a good night, sweetheart.” The deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear, as well as the heat of his touch, leave your body feeling warm all over. That warmth never fading even as you watch Bradley and Caroline cross the parking lot, hand-in-hand, to get to their car.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him again soon.

- - -

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment/reblog if you enjoyed, feedback is always appreciated! x

Part 2 will be up next Wednesday! <3

UPDATE: you can read part two here ! ❤️

tag list: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91 @memoriesat30 @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 @foreverrandomwritings @lt-spork @princess76179 @gigisimsonmars @kidd3ath @averyhotchner @sammyrenae68 @tv-fanatic18 @one-sweet-gubler @simonscumsock

also tagging some people who reblogged/replied to the sneak peek : @fanficfandomlove @hangmanssunnies @milestomaverick @maverick-wingman @teacupsandtopgun @katiemcrae @colourfulsuitwonderland @becks-things @bradshawsbaddie @bradshawsbitch @valhallaas @roger-that-cap @woodkiller

. . .

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun fic #miles teller #dad bradley #single dad bradley #my writing

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wlntrsldler · 23 days

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poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them.

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays.

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?"

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late."

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious.

"sorry, maybe next week?"

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star."

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips.

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations.

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt.

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him.

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that.

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control.

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills.

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks.

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.”

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension.

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.”

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.”

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?”

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.”

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.”

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?”

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?”

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?”

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.”

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.”

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?”

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend.

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you.

you missed him. a lot.

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over.

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports?

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take.

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm.

“you ready?”

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles.

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved.

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.”

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!”

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.”

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased.

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.”

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close.

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.”

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it.

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him.

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena.

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?”

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped.

luke was here.

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction.

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.”

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.”

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.”

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.”

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you.

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.”

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.”

“i’m not mad at all.”

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?”

“we’re okay.”

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.”

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.”

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.”

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.”

“what?”

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.”

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.”

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?”

“what?”

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?”

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.”

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?”

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.”

“bullshit.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?”

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.”

“it’s ridiculous?”

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.”

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?”

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.”

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.”

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?”

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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enkas-illusion · 4 months

Text

(Not) Just Another Crush - Part 1/2

Fandom / Pairing: Attack On Titan / Eren x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, fluff, A LOT of fluff, slow burn, kissing, language, slight make out, emotional edging of sorts (it will make sense)

Chapter Summary: Instead of pining over the mystery man at your gym from a distance, you decide to take matters into your own hands and talk to the guy. And you find out that Eren Jaeger, as it turns out, is akin to a man written by a woman.

Author's notes: Hello, here’s a meet-cute type of thing for gym bro Eren cause ~I need a big boy, gimme a big boy, gimme a big big boy~; this is a 2-part story so the chapters are super lengthy. Hope you enjoy it – feel free to like, reblog or comment! Thank you for reading!

-Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Crush by Cigarettes After Sex

Part 1 | Part 2

To the unassuming eyes, it may look like just two people interacting – but to the ones who knew, you and the gym trainer, it was fate intervening to give you this opportunity!

“Bruh, if you don't go talk to him now…” you hear Porco, the trainer's voice as he nudges you in your crush's direction.

As you walk up to your crush you think about how stupid this idea seems. The plan was to ask him to alternate sets with you on seated rows since the gym was way too crowded.

Honestly, the move was a bit too obvious in your opinion. But you'd set your mind to it – Today is the day you finally talk to your crush!

It had been quite some time since you'd been secretly simping over this guy so what's the harm? All the other equipment being occupied was the perfect excuse, if you had to look for one, to finally talk to him.

Since you’re usually reserved, you don’t talk to anyone at the gym. You've always been this way – doing your own thing while blasting music in your earphones and going home without ever lifting your head up.

But ever since you saw him about a month ago, your eyes had been wandering around to find him the minute you'd enter the gym, stealing glimpses whenever you could without being creepy about it.

You decided it was just some stupid crush only because the man was ridiculously hot so it'll fade away eventually. But man, were you wrong.

When he didn't show up to the gym the whole week last week, you rushed to Porco, who's always hanging around to enquire – any semblance of subtlety thrown out the window.

It wasn't like you were planning to make a move (god knows the only reason you didn't talk much at the gym was to avoid the occasional creeps that would try talking you up).... but the fact that it felt like a missed chance with the mystery guy left an itch and a curiosity to know more.

“...you know the one who's always wearing anime t-shirts? Long, black haired pretty dude?” You'd asked, hoping Porco would recognize your crush from your half-assed description.

When Porco was seemingly confused, you'd pestered further, “The one who always has his hair tied in a messy bun but still looks gorgeous? Nothing? Ummm- The emo dude with the perfect proportions!”

“OH! Are you talking about Eren? I can’t quite remember his last name but pretty sure you’re talking about Eren. Yeah… he's a regular– has been here for a year now.”

“How come I only saw him a month ago?”

“I think he recently switched timings to fit his work schedule or something. Maybe he shifted back to the mornings.”

Your heart sinks at the information… there goes your imaginary chance with Eren.

Eren.

You memorise his name anyway… hoping that maybe the gods would be generous enough to give you a chance to talk to him.

And they do. He shows up over the weekend and you secretly cheer that he's back during your schedule. However, another month passes by as you keep on trying to find the ‘perfect’ opportunity to talk to him.

Which brings you to the present moment, as you walk towards him and wait at a distance while he finishes his reps. He slows down his movements nonetheless when your eyes meet, and before you can stop yourself, you wave at him before abruptly putting your hand down.

Eren stops his movements and pulls his headphones back, his serious face breaking into a soft smile, “Hii…?”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but would you mind alternating sets with me? I’ve been waiting for about 15 minutes…” you point at the other equipments flocked by people, “Totally cool if you can’t tho-”

“Okay,” he smiles as he does five more reps before getting up and wiping the sweat off the seat.

“Thank you,” you say as you go to adjust the weights. Your jaw almost drops when you see it's set to 80kgs. You almost want to laugh as you set it back to 15kgs.

‘Dude’s a beast, don’t compare! Upper body never was your best muscle group,’ you think to yourself. You resume your music quickly and begin your set. When you’re done, you get up to wipe the seat as well as the handlebars of the machine with your towel.

You hear a snort from behind and when you turn to look at Eren and see him give you a smile that has you weak in your knees.

“What?” you ask confused.

“Wiping the handles as well? Cute,” he answers. He can’t help but find this action considerate – Most people don’t even bother wiping the patch formed by their sweaty ass cheeks.

Even if his compliment makes you blush, you try hard to not let it show. You simply move away to signal him to the seat. He bends down to readjust the weights.

“No way you’re gonna go above 80!?” you gasp as you see him push it to 100kgs.

“The last one is always till failure,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Oh... that’s crazy, I could never. I’ve got noodle arms,” you joke.

“Didn’t you get your first full pull up a few days ago?” he asks.

PAUSE. He’s noticed you before???

As if instantly reading your mind, he adds, “I saw you cheering and clapping your hands with Porco when you did it.”

“Oh that… sorry, I try not to bother anyone much usually,” you feel the heat rise to your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“I know, don’t be sorry, it’s a good thing to celebrate your PR… besides, Reiner has been teasing me about not making any progress lately so I need to step up my game for sure,” he laughs to himself as he gets into position.

“Reiner?”

“That’s the huge blonde who I usually come with,” he explains. You simply nod and don’t speak further, letting him begin his set. He starts well but by the end you can tell that Eren is struggling a bit as soft cusses leave his lips, face scrunching and chest heaving as he steadies his breathing.

“Come on… 2 more.” you cheer, causing him to grunt as he finishes his set. Your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see him wipe the handles along with the seat, imitating your habit.

“Thank you.” you blush as you bend down to readjust the weights to 25kgs, “So, you’re done?”

“Yeah…” he speaks, taking small sips of water from his bottle, “I’ll see you around?”

You nod and he smiles at you as he turns to leave, but quickly turns back again, “Shit! Sorry… What's your name?”

The blush grows even further at his question as you tell him your name and ask, “What about you?”

“I’m Eren… Eren Jaeger.”

Jaeger. Eren Jaeger.

You memorise his full name and you both say your goodbyes as you get back to your workout. Eren left way before you did, leaving no room for further conversations to occur.

This interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by Porco, who rushed to your side when you were stretching, “Soooo, am I your cupid yet?”

“Don’t get your hopes up… we’ll have small talks whenever we see each other at best. Nothing’s going to happen!” you lie with a straight face, but deep down you were dying to check him out on Instagram once you were in the comfort of your home.

Your crush was oh so kind to spare you the stalking when you see your phone light up with a notification later at night.

Eren_j started following you.

You almost jump up out of your bed but steady yourself to call your best friend, Annie, before you even get to checking his account.

“Guess who just followed me on ig?” you giggle when she picks up the call.

“Huh?”

“Guess. Who. Followed. Me!” you repeat.

“Darling… I need context,” she replies dryly.

“Eren… Eren followed me… the gym crush!” you squeal, killing the suspense since you knew it was too late at night for her to indulge in your guessing game.

“Waitttttt… the supposedly hot emo guy who wears anime t-shirts?” you can hear her surprising tone, “you go girl– thought you were too much of a puss-”

“Annie!” you cut her off, “What do I do? Should I text him first or just follow back?”

“NO! Always let the guy text first,” she proclaims.

“Ugh… but okay, I hear you… wouldn’t want to seem like a simp after keeping my cool for so long,” you answer back as you put her on speaker to follow him back. You see the Requested icon turn to Following within seconds.

“ANN! He accepted already,” you almost yell.

“Welp, that was fast,” she chuckles.

“Sooo,” you begin in a sweet sing-song voice, “I’m gonna go stalk his profil-”

“Yeah, alright… have a good night babe.” you hear a dramatic mwah from her. You chuckle as you bid her good night before hanging up.

As you skim through his profile, you can’t help but feel giddy at the fact that this guy actually seems to have a personality, unlike some gym bros who make ‘muscle’ their entire personality.

When you’re going through his story highlights, you see his username pop up at the top of your screen, making your heart race faster. He had replied to your story. You rush to check on your profile what you’d posted, feeling your brain malfunction as you fear it being something embarrassing and goofy.

Phew. It was just a post-workout selfie showing off your wet, sweaty t-shirt.

You open his text.

Eren_j:

Guess u got a good workout in after I left afterall.

Feeling a bit bold, you text back.

I did… would’ve been a lot more fun with you tho.

And you almost want to throw your phone away in anticipation as you see the typing icon.

Eren_j:

Be careful what you wish for. I’ve been told im a strict/difficult gym partner.

I like me a challenge :)

Eren_j:

Is that so? Guess i gotta make it particularly hard for u :)))

I’m a tough girl Eren… i think i can take it.

You swing your feet as you roll around on the bed. If you ever showed this to Annie, she’d probably call it ‘fucking cringe but cute nonetheless’.

As the double entendre texts died down, seamless conversations kept you hooked. He was putting in equal amounts of effort to keep the conversation alive. You don’t exactly remember how you fell asleep but you remember talking to him for about two hours or so.

And that’s how you became gym buddies. As another month had passed by, you got to know him as a friend. You want to cuss yourself since your crush has only increased tenfold ever since you’ve gotten to know him personally.

You realise just how deceiving his looks are – on the outside, he’s this big, intimidating dude but on the inside he’s got the golden retriever energy. Eren is the perfect mix of what you’d call a serious yet laid back/chill guy.

He’s thoughtful, remembers tiny details about you, sends you songs whenever he finds one he thinks you’d like and memes that remind him of you and is a self proclaimed hopeless romantic. You could go on and on about Eren and it would still not be enough – needless to say, you were absolutely gone for him, the kind that they describe as being totally head-over-heels in movies.

And it doesn’t help that a few nights ago, when the gym was basically empty, you two almost kissed. Standing in the corridor, as you were saying your goodbyes, it felt as if he was about to lean in to kiss you before being interrupted by someone walking out the changing room, making you flee the scene, akin to a criminal being caught.

But then again, you weren’t really sure if it was just your delusion overriding the tiny bit of logic left in your romance-ridden brain.

~~~

“Eren… I can’t– fuck,” you groan as your hands shake.

“You got it, come on. You’re doing so good. One more then we’re done. Promise,” you hear his voice as his grip on your waist tightens.

Eren supports your bodyweight as he pushes you up so that your chin is touching the pull up bar. The first few were bearable but by your 7th pull up, it’s more like he’s working his biceps rather than you working your back.

With shaky hands, you try to control your movement as you come down but your arms almost give in, causing you to slightly stumble as you drop to your feet with a light thud. His grip on your waist tightens to steady you before letting go gently.

Ever since the almost kiss, you’d been extra aware of his touches. So even his guiding touches, without any ulterior motives, have been making you feel some type of way.

You slouch slightly as you sit against a wall in the corner, sipping your water. You close your eyes to calm your breathing as you feel your arms burn. You groan as you realise you’re going to be super sore tomorrow morning.

“Good job bub,” he snickers. You open your eyes to see him bend down in front of you to pat your head lightly.

“I give up… you win, you are a ruthless gym partner.”

“Aww… I'm flattered,” he jokes further.

You roll your eyes as you swat his hand away from your head.

“Let me make it up to you, I’ll give you a massage. How about that?” he adds jokingly, though you know he wouldn’t mind actually giving you one if you ask him nicely.

“You better! I’m not going to be able to make dinner tonight!” you reply as you hold your arms out limply in front of him.

“Then don’t. Let me make you dinner,” he says, taking the opportunity.

“For real?” you ask, taken by surprise by his sudden yet tempting offer.

“Yeah? Got any plans for tonight?”

“No… let’s do it. I'm in,” you agree before demanding, “but, I want that massage as well.”

“Done… my massages can put those Thai spas to shame,” he boasts.

“Are you overselling yourself Jaeger?” you tease him, “it’s often disappointing when reality doesn’t match the hype.”

“You’re gonna eat your words later… I’ve been told I’ve got magic fingers.” he retorts, his cocky smirk wider than ever. You roll your eyes as you grab your things before getting up.

“That’s for me to decide,” you poke him further, “... the food better be worth the 7 pull ups.”

Surprisingly he doesn’t have a witty comeback in his arsenal this time. You simply hear a low chuckle escape his lips and it’s somehow more mischievous than whatever clever words he would’ve spoken otherwise.

You’d never been to his place before, meaning it took a few minutes for your brain to register that you were going to Eren fucking Jaeger’s place! In the changing room, you freshen up as much as you can to try to not look like a sweaty mess. You change into a pair of jeans and a jumper, slinging the gym bag over your shoulder before giving yourself one last look in the mirror and walking out to meet him near the entrance of the gym.

As you walk out, you see him waiting for you on his bike, securing the helmet on his head. He’s changed into a pair of loose jeans and a denim jacket over his t-shirt. Even when you’d seen his ride for the first time, Eren being a biker never surprised you since it felt very on-brand for him.

Imagine him picking you up for a date, waiting on his bike with a bouquet of tulips in hand. Ehe.

You snap out of your daydream when he holds out the other helmet in front of you. You lean your head down when he motions you to do so and he puts the helmet on you.

“Where did the second one come from?” you wonder out loud.

“I had planned to take you home tonight from the start,” he winks.

You snort as you slide the visor of his helmet down his face. You hear his laugh as he adds, “Porco let me borrow his, apparently he keeps an extra one in the cabin for god-knows-what.”

“I guess I really might need to call Porco a cupi–” you freeze midway.

“Hmm?”

“A good trainer.” you correct yourself, and you’re pretty sure it was far from convincing but Eren decides not to tease you about it. You’re 99.99% certain he heard it – maybe he just wants to save you the embarrassment, you think to yourself.

You hop onto his bike and hesitantly rest your hands on his sides not wanting to seem awkward by straight up hugging him from behind. However, he straightens his back as he grabs the top of your hands, pulling them to the front to wrap them around his waist. You smile to yourself as you rest your cheek on his back and hug your arms around him steadily.

The ride back to his place is barely 10 minutes long. You miss being so close to him as soon as you get off the bike in the parking lot. He parks and guides you to his apartment holding your wrist gently. It’s not a complete holding-hands-fingers-intertwined but that has never stopped you from overanalyzing things, has it?

You take in your surroundings when you enter the apartment and it doesn’t stand out much. It looks like any normal dude’s apartment, except it’s cleaner – probably more than your own.

“Wow, your apartment is clean,” you comment.

“You’re hurting me babe. Did you expect me to live like a savage just cause I’m a guy.”

“No, no… I’m sorry it came out wrong–” you try to clarify but he interrupts.

“Kidding! I know it’s cleaner than usual. I live with Reiner and Levi… while Reiner and I aren’t really shabby, Levi really can’t tolerate a dirty house,” Eren explains.

“Oh, that must be exhausting, no?”

“Not really. That was Levi’s one condition when Reiner and I went to him in search of a third flatmate so we agreed.”

“Ah, makes sense. Are they here?” you ask, curiously as you hang your bag near the coat rack and take off your shoes. Eren returns to your side, having locked the door and keeping all his things in their designated places.

“Nah. Reiner’s out of town on a work trip for like two weeks and Levi’s gone home for a few days as well,” he answers as he shrugs off his jacket, folding it before placing it on the side table.

You can’t help but find it cute that he keeps the place neat so diligently, being considerate of others… but then again, you’ve been finding all of Eren’s actions cute lately.

“... so it’s just us here tonight.” he says flirtatiously.

“Good thing, I’d hate to share food now… I’m hungry,” you say, dodging it. Usually, you’d flirt back but the two of you being alone at his place suddenly feels so real – anything could happen. You chicken out – there may be a possibility that he likes you back but there could ALSO be a possibility of him only liking you as a friend.

“‘Ight, what would you like to have?” he asks as you follow him to the kitchen.

“Surprise me… nothing too fancy though.”

“Phew… I was actually hoping for that answer since I’d prepared the dough for burger patties,” he admits sheepishly as he washes his hand and puts on the apron. You lean against the opposite counter to let him cook in peace without any hindrance.

“Do you want my hel-”

“OH– just a min,” he interrupts you as he hurries out of the kitchen. You blink in confusion as you follow him out to check on the guy and find him connecting his phone to the speaker.

A soft song plays through the speaker loudly and he walks towards you as if just now he’s truly ready to take on kitchen duties.

“It’s my cooking playlist,” he smiles.

He’s so fucking cute. For fucks sake!

When you ask him again if he wants your help, he declines saying ‘the only thing you need to do tonight is compliment my amazing skills.’

So you watch him work while chatting away about random things. It doesn’t take long for him to prepare the patties and heat the buns, adding copious amounts of veggies with melting cheese on top of it. He presents it with a ‘Tada!’ and you clap at his presentation with a dramatic ‘Bravo!’

When you taste the first bite, you almost moan at how delicious it is. The burger is huge, juicy and has the right balance of crispy and soft with spicy, sweet and sour. You close your eyes, delving into the heavenly taste.

You open your eyes to see Eren devouring his own burger, unfazed by the masterpiece that he’d created as if it were something ordinary to him.

“Eren!” you squeal, “if this is what I get to eat after, I might just do a hundred pull-ups from tomorrow.”

Eren chuckles at this, licking the cheesy sauce that had trickled down his fingers, “Told ya I only brag when I know I’m good.”

“I’m serious! This is too good,” you add, taking another bite.

“I know… thank you,” Eren smiles, clearly amused at the way you’re enjoying his burger. And in that moment, a thought crosses his mind – he’d make you dinner every night if it meant that he got to be the reason for you to feel such bliss.

Neither of you talk much till you finish eating. Your reason being wanting to relish in the taste with full concentration and Eren’s reason being not wanting to disturb your peace.

When you’re done, you clear out the plates and Eren cleans the table. As you’re walking out of the kitchen, you hear a familiar tune playing when he resumes the songs on his playlist.

You recognize it – Dope Lovers by DPR IAN.

“I love this song!” you exclaim as you walk towards him. The tension you’d felt at the beginner has almost dissipated and feeling a little courageous, you extend an arm out to him to dance.

He tosses his phone on the sofa before taking your hand to pull you closer to him. You sway your body to the rhythm as you mumble some of the lyrics.

“Is it the art or the artist that you like?” he teases.

“Well, you can’t deny that he isn’t hot… There’s something about DPR Ian, he’s soooo–” you pause to think about the right word to use before concluding, “– babygurl.”

“Babygurl?” Eren laughs as he rests his arms at your hips, “What does that even mean?”

“It’s like daddy – it’s a state of mind,” you joke but then you purse your lips as you really think about how to explain this endearing slang to Eren, “Babygurl is when a man is so comfortable in his masculinity that he isn't scared of embracing his soft side and being gentle. A man who knows that kindness is strength. Someone who looks so tough but is far from toxic. A man who’s a gentleman in the true sense of the word… does that make sense?”

“Hmm, I think so…” he nods, “Who else is babygurl?”

“You are, Eren,” you smile and lift your hands up to move to his neck but stop when you feel a weird stiffness in your shoulders, “ow, it’s sore already.”

“Okay, let’s give you that massage!” he declares with a booming laugh, taking your hands in his and guiding you to the sofa. He sits you down with your back facing him and gently taps near your lower back to signal you to sit up straight.

“Relax your shoulders,” you hear him speak softly as his hands move up to your shoulders but he pauses his movement. He lifts his hands to comb his fingers through your locks and you jerk slightly when his fingers touch your neck in the process.

“Eren, what are you doin-” you giggle as you turn your head to look at him.

“Shh, stay still,” he murmurs, knitting his eyebrows in concentration. His hair falls down, framing his face as he takes out his hair tie. You turn to look to the front as he runs his fingers to gather all your loose strands together once again. You feel him gently pull at your hair as he secures it with his hair tie.

“You know, you could’ve just asked for mine. It’s in my bag,” you chuckle.

“Too lazy,” he replies as his hands begin to massage your back gently. He alternates between pressing his thumbs down the length of your spine and pressing his palms flat to cover the entire area, sliding his hands down in slow pressured movements. You slouch in his touch and his hands move up to your shoulder blades to massage the area in circular motion.

“Mmm, Eren– that feels so good,” you breathe out, skin feeling like wax that could melt into his hands at any moment. You’re certain you’d fall asleep in a few minutes if he continued doing this any longer.

Eren changes his movement to bring up his fingertips to your nape, dragging them gently over the expanse of your neck, his fingers dancing over your skin as he dips them under the collar to trace your skin. This causes you to let out an involuntary whimper and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when his touch comes to a halt.

You’re pretty sure he can see the goosebumps pricking on the surface of your skin and you mumble a soft ‘sorry’ as you create some space between to turn around to face him completely. Your eyes meet and you’re smiling at him awkwardly but he has a poker face.

He gets up abruptly, breaking eye contact as he hurries towards the kitchen. You look at him, confused and are about to ask him why he was acting that way but he speaks up before you do.

“Want anything to drink? Something sweet for dessert?”

“Umm… okay,” you mutter, still confused.

“Anything specific?” he enquires.

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of hot coffee,” you request, smiling as you abandon your previous thought.

“Coffee? At night?” he counters, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s my talent. I can sleep like a baby no matter how strong the coffee is.”

“Hmmm… Would you like to try the Eren Jaeger Special where I mix loads of chocolate with coffee and cream?”

“So, basically a mocha?” you press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

“Yes or no?” he says with narrowed eyes.

“Yes,” you laugh and he rolls his eyes as he turns around, disappearing into the kitchen.

You’re scrolling through your phone when you hear his approaching footsteps after a few minutes. You close your phone as you turn your head to look up at him as he walks towards you with two steaming mugs in hand.

As soon as he places one of the mugs on the table, you pick it up instantly. He sits down in front of you to clink your mugs together with a ‘cheers’. You both take tiny sips together and your eyes widen at the frothy sweet and bitter taste.

“If you get me addicted, you’ll have to be the one to meet the demands too, just sayinggg…'' you blow over the surface and take another sip.

“Yes ma’am, I’d gladly oblige to all of your demands,” he winks before taking another sip from his mug. You try to hide your growing smile with your mug. For the rest of the conversation you try to change the subject from the two of you to literally anything else you can find – and Eren being the great conversationalist that he is, is talking about each topic just as enthusiastically.

“Aww man, the last of the coffee’s gone cold.” you swirl the liquid in the mug.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Eren fake yells, already having finished his. You raise one fist up as you gulp the last of your coffee down in one go and slam the mug down on the cushion. Feeling the frothy stache over your upper lip, you lick it off, laughing along with him.

“There’s still some left…” Eren mumbles, pointing at his own mouth to show the spot. Before you have a chance to wipe it, he swipes his thumb over the corner of your lips before bringing it to his lips to lick it off. It’s such a simple act yet it has the butterflies in your stomach going rampant.

“Hey, that was mine,” you try to feign offence but it comes out more desperate than you’d intended as you stare at his lips a little too longer than friends are supposed to.

He cups your face with both his hands as his gaze deepens before his eyes move down to your lips. Your breath hitches as you see him instinctively wet his lips. He leans in to move closer till your faces are just inches away.

“Then take it back agai–” he’s rudely interrupted by the sound of the front door opening with a loud thud. You pull back abruptly to create some space between the two of you. You see Eren’s jaw clench as he closes his eyes briefly in an attempt to keep his cool.

“REINER MY BROTHER– oh,” you see a man enter the living room with a large backpack.

“Jean.” Eren says, giving him a tight lipped smile.

“Eren. Where’s Reiner?” Jean asks as he looks at the two of you.

“Did he not tell you that he wasn’t gonna be at home for a while?” Eren answers, and you’re almost surprised at how cold his tone is.

“Yes? But I figured he'd leave after seeing me?” Jean retorts.

“And why would he do that?” Eren asks just as coldly.

“Since he said I was welcome to stay in his room while I was in town? Even told me to use the key y'all keep in the space behind the nameplate,” the man explains.

“Great! It's amazing how my roommate fails to tell me about shit like this.” Eren mutters but smiles at the guy nonetheless, “His room is unlocked… feel free to make yourself at home I guess.”

“Thanks. Have fun, I guess,” Jean half salutes Eren, giving you both a smug smile, feeling the satisfaction of having cockblocked his friendly foe. He leaves you two alone, making his way to Reiner’s room. Once you watch him disappear, you turn to check your phone for the time.

This time it was real! You’re not delusional, he really was about to kiss you!

You silence the voice in your head. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that Eren seemingly likes you but he can’t seem to make a move or at least declare his feelings with certainty. And there’s no way in hell you’d confess first since it’s pretty evident you like him, you’ve dropped enough hints over a month’s time – you want him to be the one to do it first.

“It’s late, I better get going,” you make an excuse as you stand up, gathering your things as you prepare to leave. Your cheeks feel hot and you give him a small smile, feeling a bit too flustered to carry on a conversation at this point.

“Let me drop you home,” he offers quickly as he stands up with you.

“My apartment isn’t far from here.”

“It's late,” he adds. You consider it and nod your head. He smiles as he grabs his keys along with his own two helmets this time.

The ride home is quick so neither of you bother with small talk. Once he parks in the parking lot of your apartment building, he tilts his bike to make it easier for you to get off. He gets off the bike, gently taking your helmet off and placing it on the bike. As you fix your hair, he takes his helmet off as well, placing it next to yours.

You slightly shuffle on your feet as you prepare to say your goodbyes. When he turns back to look at you, you smile earnestly.

“I had a fun time tonight… despite you being a meanie at the gym.” you try to lighten up the tension.

“Only for you bub,” he jokes back, making finger-hearts at you.

“Good night, Eren.” you laugh as you wave at him and turn to walk away. You barely take a step when you hear him say your name.

“Hmm?” you turn around to look at him again. He doesn’t speak but takes one long stride to close the distance between you, wrapping his hands around your waist. As if on instinct, you drop your bag to the ground and place your hands on his shoulders, looking up at him as your breath hitches in your throat again.

He brings his left hand up to your cheek, dipping his head down to kiss your lips without any further delay. His wider frame envelopes yours as the hand on your cheek snakes back to hold your head in place as he deepens the kiss. You wrap both your hands around his neck, standing on your tippy toes for better access while his lower hand wraps around your waist even tighter.

When your lips finally part to catch your breaths, he looks you in the eye, smiling contently. Your legs feel giddy from the high you’re experiencing and you’re glad he’s still holding you flush against his body.

“I’d been dying to do that ever since I laid my eyes on you… figured it’d be pretty stupid of me to let the opportunity go twice in a row,” he confesses, dipping his head down again to kiss you once again.

You’re surprised, your brain reeling at the information but you close your eyes nonetheless, getting lost in the feeling of his lips moving against yours.

“Yeah, it would’ve been pretty stupid,” you smile when he pulls back. You pull him down by the collar to give him a kiss on his cheek, “Thank you for not wasting any more chances.”

You run your hands through his loose strands and he hums as he closes his eyes. You pull him down for another deep kiss. His tongue invades your mouth and he squeezes your ass as he pulls your body further closer to his. When you feel his boner from under his clothing, it causes you to moan into the kiss.

Your hands move down his sides, lowering further but he stops your movement with his own hands holding your wrists firmly. He pulls away from the kiss, eyes still closed as he rests his forehead against yours. His hot breath fans your face as he speaks, “It’s taking everything in me to not come up to your place to fuck you right now.”

“Then do it,” you mewl desperately as you kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss but breaks it once again to speak, “No, I wanna do this right. Let me take you out on a real date first… tomorrow evening?”

You feel your cheeks burn up as you bite your bottom lip to contain the grin threatening to give away your excitement as you nod. You stand on your toes once again to give him a quick peck. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, enveloping you into a comforting hug.

“Take this with you,” he mumbles as he goes to grab a helmet. He leans down to grab your bag from the floor, handing both the items to you.

“Good night Eren,” you smile. He cups your face with both his hands and leans down to kiss you again – it’s brief but passionate.

“Good night baby,” he smiles as he lightly smacks your ass, earning a yelp from you. Before you can scold him, he gives you a hasty kiss before making his way to his bike. You walk to the elevator and press the button, turning to look back at him as he secures his helmet.

He starts the bike but waits till he sees you enter the elevator. Just as the door closes, you catch a glimpse of him leaving. You lean back against the railing, covering your face with your hands, not really believing what had just occurred.

The man you’d been pining over for months had been crushing over you all along too.

Eren Jaeger never was just another unrequited crush – and come tomorrow, he’s going to mean a lot more than just a friend.

#erensbirdie #aot x reader #aot x you #aot #aot smut #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger

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flamingpudding · 7 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 6 - "I can't wait for you."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury

Danny stared at the stars above his head, sitting on top of Fenton Works. Even after a week his arm still tingled with phantom pains from his accident. In his left hand was a dagger he hadn't looked at in years now. Was it 6 or 7 years? Danny couldn't really remember. He had been too young when he had made his first decision for himself only.

The fingertips of his right hand traced imaginary patterns over the blade as his eyes searched out different constellations in the night sky. 7 years ago, he would have never imagined for himself a future where he was allowed to follow his own dreams. A week ago he had talked about his dream of becoming an astronaut, exploring the vast space that existed just outside of their own stratosphere.

Now after that the lab accident he had he felt like another dream had gotten shattered by the wheels of fate. It wasn't even his past life from before the Fentons that shattered these dreams, in the way he had feared in the first couple of years after coming to live with them. It where times like these when he would dug out the dagger to take it with him to see the stars.

His eyes turned from the stars to the blade in his hand.

It was a special blade his biological mother had ordered when she learned about having twins. The blade itself was only one half. The flat surface of the handle and the blade on one side while the other appeared like a high quality blade and greatly decorated handle, spoke of the missing part. His dagger was only half of a dagger, the other half was with his twin.

This was the only thing he had taken with him when he had left at the tender age of 5 or was it six? His memory was blurry and back then celebrating your birthday wasn't as big of a deal as it was in the life he had gained with Fentons.

At times Danny wondered why he had been the only one to see it. His twin had gone through the same teachings, the same lessons, the same training, the same mission. Yet Danny had been the only one who saw the way their grandfather really was. The manipulation, the gaslighting, the brainwashing. Danny had seen it all and realized it pretty soon and when he had talked with his twin about it?

He had hit a wall. Grandfather knows what he's doing. Stop imagining things, Danyal.

"I can't wait for you. Damian, if you can't see what I do, then I can no longer stay here and wait."

These were the last words he had said to his twin after another argument about their grandfather gaslighting them about a mission result. It was right there and then that Danny decided he needed to leave and that he did.

Somehow, as a five years old he had managed to get all the way to America before they found him again. And when he refused to come back they, his grandfather's mans, attacked without remorse. After all it was better to get rid of loose ends than to let them frail your masterpiece.

But ending up near death in the middle of a forest where the Fentons happen to be camping was his luck back then. They probably thought that he wouldn't make it, that Danny wouldn't have the will to continue barely breathing in his own pool of blood but Danny proved them wrong. He did have the will and he had continued crawling until Jazz had found him.

That was how his life had changed the first time. The Fentons took him in, allowed him to dream and to build a future and family of his own. Now this lap accident was making changes to his life again and Danny couldn't help but think back to his previous life. "I wonder if Damian finally saw what I did or if he still is under grandfather's influence…"

Months later Danny was introduced to an apparent family friend of his parents. One Danny felt was too much of a fruitloop and gave him concerning flashbacks to his grandfather but was still easier to deal with. But following all the incidence of conflicts with the fruitloop was also a moment to which said fruitloop somehow convinced his parents to let him drag Danny to a Gala.

Danny hadn't paid any attention to the guests of this gala, no he had taken the first chance he got to escape the way Sam had advised him before to do, and fled to a balcony. Breathing in the clear night air Danny loosened the tie he was made to wear. He did not notice the soft click of the balcony door behind him.

"Danyal." Danny whirled around and pulled out a hidden blade he kept on his person more out of habit than anything else. He hadn't heard his name spoken like that in years, even the fruitloop and a more American dialect when it came to saying his name.

He froze at the mirror image with green eyes that stood before him. That couldn't be could it?

"Damian?" The other teen nodded and Danny only relaxed his stance ever so slightly. His shoulders were still tense and he was still ready to spring into action or use his ghost powers to escape if needed.

Neither of them spoke a word as they took in each other's appearance and Danny hid a small chuckle as his twin clicked his tongue at his defensive stance, crossing his arms.

"I see, you still have that half of a dagger mother had made for us."

"The only thing I took with me when I left."

His twin clicked his tongue once more before reaching into a hidden pocket and pulling out the other half of that dagger. Showing that he also had kept his half of it throughout all these years.

"There is no longer a need for you to wait, Danyal."

Danny blinked and completely dropped his defensive stance, hearing the unspoken words. He let a small smile tuck his lips upwards. It appears that there was a lot he had to catch up on with his twin.

"I never waited to begin with Damian. I ghosted you right after." He chuckled lightly, knowing his brother wouldn't understand until later.

"Don't lie, Danyal. You took your half of the dagger with you." His brother frowned before smirking at him. "You said you couldn't wait anymore but taking it with you was clearly telling me that you would still do so anyway."

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delfiore · 8 months

Text

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (2/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you and ona become much closer, but in the wrong way; an offer on the horizon threatens to tear you apart.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: description of collision in football

PART I, PART III, PART IV, PART V

Sports Illustrated: USWNT International Y/N Y/L/N Scores in First Game Back From Injury “Y/N Y/L/N will not stop scoring. The Man City star returns to action with a stunning header in a home game against Everton since picking up an injury this summer in the CONCACAF final against Canada. Though the U.S. emerged victorious thanks to Alex Morgan’s penalty kick, Y/L/N was forced off in the 68th minute with a torn hamstring. She was expected to be sidelined for 3 months. […]”

You skimmed through the article, waiting for your coffee to brew. It has been an arduous few months as you focused on rehabilitation. You were supposed to be match-fit at the start of the season, but the physios determined you needed at least a few more weeks before you could play. Your thigh still felt a bit tight every time you stretched them. Nonetheless, you were back to playing, that was all that mattered.

It was early November, and the winds were picking up in Manchester, and yet you were warm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at the figure waddling into the living room.

Bratwurst was wagging his tail by her side, no doubt looking for more food as if you hadn’t fed him half an hour ago.

“Good morning,” Ona said, rubbing her eyes.

“Coffee?” You nodded towards the machine.

“No, I have to get to training. Thanks, though.”

“In my shirt?” You smirked at looked down at her top. Sure enough, it was the old T-shirt you lent her after you were done last night.

“Hah hah.” She mocked you, but then took off the shirt, leaving her top half completely bare, and threw it at your face. “Obviously not.”

You let your eyes travel freely, as she went back into your room and returned wearing the clothes she came in last night.

“Looks like you’re back to being your insufferable self.” She walked to where you sat, putting on her necklace. “Can’t even go on social media without seeing people praising your goal.”

“All in a day’s work,” you said, grinning.

Ona rolled her eyes and put on her shoes. “I’m glad you’re back, but I won’t go easy on you.”

You stood up and pecked her lips.

“I never asked you to,” you leaned closer, ducking your face into her neck. “Maybe when we’re alone.”

She snickered quietly and patted your cheek. “Try not to miss me too much. Bye-bye, Bratwurst.”

The pup sat by the door as he watched her close it behind her. Ever since she started spending time at your apartment, it felt like he liked her more, always following her around and snuggling with her as she gave him pets.

Ona had been coming over since the kiss at the end of last season with the premise of meaningless sex. You both had an arrangement, and you were committed to keeping to it. You were surprised when she suggested it, thinking her not to be the type, but Ona continues to surprise you.

You had only meant to meet up over dinner to talk about what happened, but the night ended with her hands tangled in your hair and your legs tangled in her sheets. The ups and downs these past few months never deterred you from seeing each other. In fact, Spain losing out in the Euros prompted her to come over and forget about it for a night. In a way, you both had each other.

Your teammates at Man City were especially amused whenever you’d forget to cover up and come to practice with marks on your neck.

“Who’s the unlucky gal this time, Y/N?”

“Have you been busy while you were injured?”

Every time, you would just shake your head with a grin because you’d never kiss and tell. Also, because Leila and Laia would flip out if they knew you’d been screwing their teammate on the national team.

Your arrangement worked for a while, both of you still too young and too committed to football to think about anything else. While a lot of your colleagues would disagree, it was the excuse you told yourself to fully admit that what you felt for Ona was beyond just carnal desires.

You were treading on dangerous waters, your feelings bubbling to the surface every time you saw the girl. It was much more challenging to keep them under wraps, especially when you had to play against her every couple of months. From what people knew about you two, you were rivals, and that was your relationship. Rumors of a romance surfaced too, amongst younger fans, but it was the result of baseless shipping. If only they knew.

Ona wasn’t an incredibly affectionate person, not by a mile. The only times you would catch her lowering her guard by the tiniest of margins were when she was tired, maybe then she’d let you cuddle her after sex. But you remembered when Spain was knocked out of the Euros way too soon, and she was crying on the phone to you. You had just won the CONCACAF with the US across the Atlantic, and yet all you wanted was to hold her.

And so that was what you did. Two days later, after you were dismissed from your international duties, you flew back to Manchester and waited for her. Ona liked to be the little spoon whenever she was sad, and you were very happy to oblige. If she was feeling generous, she would even thank you for it. As much as you wanted to, you never teased her about it, because you knew what you had was fragile, and a slight mention of it could topple everything to the ground.

That was how it was with your Spanish beauty.

“Wooooooow . . . You’ve got a handful,” said your teammate, Chloe, as she stood in your kitchen, eating your chips.

“Yup,” you pressed your lips thinly, grabbing some seasoning from the cupboard. “That’s my life right now.”

You proceeded to tell Chloe everything one day, omitting a few saucy details, of course.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“That’s the thing, though. There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t just walk up to her and demand something that wasn’t part of the arrangement to begin with.”

“I know, but it’s clearly affecting you. You like her, don’t you?”

“No.” A few seconds of silence followed, and Chloe was looking at you with a glare. “Okay, I think she’s cute, like, really cute.”

“I think you should talk to her, Y/N,” Chloe said. “Worst case scenario, you lot stop whatever you’re doing with each other behind all of our backs. Best case scenario, you date her.”

You smirked, but nothing no usual quippy or smug remark came out. “I should try,” you spoke quietly.

Chloe nodded expectantly and continued eating her chips, now. “I can’t believe it. You tricked all of us! It was Batlle all this time!”

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” you whispered quietly into the room, sitting by the edge of your bed.

Ona was under the covers, on her phone. “Why? ‘Cause we played against each other?”

You nodded bashfully.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she set her phone down. “Or did you not want me to come?”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” You said, gesturing at the clothes strewn on the floor.

You let her study you for a moment, finding the ruffled sheets much more interesting instead.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re too quiet.” Her voice was low and calming. She reached out and caressed your hand. You wanted to bury your face in her neck and be done with the conversation instead.

“I was just wondering . . . would you like to come over a bit earlier from now on?”

Your question made her look at you with a puzzled expression. “Have I been staying too late?”

“No, no. I mean—you can stay as late as you want, but come a bit earlier. I can cook for us, and then we can just sit and . . . talk.”

You fumbled with your fingers, your eyes drifting up to her, seeing the realization dawn on her. She exhaled. “Okay, that sounds nice . . . but as friends, right?”

“Um . . . no?”

“Y/N,” Ona breathed. Her silence was killing you. Finally, she looked up. “That wasn’t our arrangement, and I’d like for it to stay as we’ve agreed. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, caressing her arm and flashing a smile. “It’s for the best.”

She nodded but watched you closely. “Come here,” she whispered.

You obliged, letting her pull you into her embrace. A searing kiss followed, leaving you to straddle her bare waist.

A short gasp left your lips. “Fuck me, Ona.” You pleaded quietly, hoping she’d fuck you until you forget the conversation ever happened. But you also hoped she’d go slow and make love to you, proving that she’d finally reciprocated your feelings.

You’ve decided that you wanted both. Maybe then, you’d finally get what you wanted.

You didn’t know that Ona was scared to let you in too, so she settled for sleeping with you.

You had been an obsession of hers for three years, a game she played besides having to focus on the actual game she was paid to play. But now, here she was—sleeping with someone who could possibly be her mortal enemy. She didn’t know when, but suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to see you harmed.

She wanted you, but that was the selfish part of her speaking.

In the morning, you had expected her to be there, but your bedside was empty.

Ona moved through her days like a ghost. She didn’t expect it to be this hard three years ago when she first set foot in Manchester. She didn’t expect a forward to make her life this hard, or that she would fall in love with you. Every minute she spent tangled up in bed with you were minutes where nothing else outside that bedroom mattered, and it scared her.

It scared her that only you could make her feel that way, that something she had spent so hard working towards for herself, you did so easily for her.

She thinks of the nights after the Euros when she practically stayed over all day, and how you took care of her. She thinks of the cheeky winks you would send her way whenever she played against you, and the not-so-innocent brushes that you sneak in whenever she defended you. She think of your face when she shut you down, and how quickly your walls came back up.

She thinks of you the entire time she was on the Zoom call with her agent.

“You need to decide soon, Ona,” her agent had told her. “Barcelona doesn’t wait for anyone.”

It was a no-brainer, but she thinks of you all the time.

The referee blew the whistle and the 90 minutes were over. You collapsed on your knees as the Etihad erupted into cheers. Man City had reached the semifinals of the Women’s Champions League for the first time ever in the history of the women’s club. You would be playing Wolfsburg next, but you couldn’t care less about that right then. You just wanted to celebrate with your teammates.

You wished that you could celebrate with Ona too.

You sent her a text much later in the night, but she didn’t respond. Thinking it to be too late for her to come over, you went to bed, soaking in your victory.

But then, she didn’t respond the next day, then the day after that. A week later, she still hadn’t responded. Then the first leg of the semifinal came, and City drew 2-2 to Wolfsburg. You had given her space to deal with whatever she didn’t want you to know and knew double-texting made you look desperate, but you have had enough of the silence.

A vote of confidence would have been nice Sent 4:29pm

Nothing.

You weren’t going to put your life on hold for her. You wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

The week of the return leg, you had almost forgotten all about Ona from the amount of training you were doing.

“Okay, ladies. Gather around,” said Chris, the assistant coach. “This will be our last practice session before the Champions League game. We’re gonna do some passing to start with, then a set-piece practice, and we’ll close off with a 5v5 scrimmage. That sound good?”

You were starting to feel more confident than jittery. Your movements were sure and steady, so were your finishes. Big games never deterred you, but it was the added fact of Ona not responding to your text that caused you to check your phone every time you were able to.

“No phones, Y/N,” Chris said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Coach. Just checking news from family,” you lied. He extended his hand anyway, and you begrudgingly handed your phone over.

“I can’t have you distracted, Y/N. The match is tomorrow.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been good, though, haven’t I?” You grinned, taking a swig of water.

Practice ended later than scheduled, but you didn’t mind. You needed the extra preparation, and you were glad to have done that with your teammates. Chris finally gave you your phone back, like a naughty student, and you quickly checked your messages. Still nothing. It wasn’t like this was the biggest game of your life or anything.

Going to the news, flipping through articles upon articles on politics, your eyes landed on one about sports.

The Busby Babe: Ona Batlle Set For Barcelona Return “Manchester United and Spain star right back Ona Batlle is reportedly on the verge of completing a move back to Catalonia, rejoining Barcelona Femeni at the end of her contract with the Red Devils. […]”

The match of your life started. You were on the left wing as you always were, playing inverted so Laia would be running the flank. You scored one, but Wolfsburg got one back towards the end of the first half.

“Make those runs, ladies. If you see them coming at you, call out to your teammates. Use the third man to break free of the defense.” Gareth pointed at the board, showing hypothetical scenarios that the team could exploit for an opening.

“Hey,” Chloe sat next to you, her forehead glistening. “You alright?”

You uttered a small ‘yeah’ and closed your hand over her sweat-clad one over your knee. You couldn’t be distracted. You owed it to Chloe and everyone else on this team.

You were slamming your fist on the door, but you didn’t care. Your jaw clenched as you swayed on your feet waiting for her to open up.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You stepped into her apartment.

Her face went pale. “How did you know?”

You let out a laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re a coward for not even saying a single word.”

The ball was sent over long from deep aiming towards you. You called for Filippa for a one-two, but once you dribbled, you were tackled inside the box. You put your hand up at the referee but huffed in disbelief when she only shook her head and granted a corner.

Slapping your hand on the grass, you sprung up with a grunt. It must have looked like you were throwing a tantrum, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to win.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you were just not gonna say anything at all?! You owe me that much to—”

“I don’t owe you anything, Y/N.” She snapped. She had never snapped at you before, not while off the pitch. “You know what we have is just sex. That’s all we ever had and that’s all we will ever have.”

Tears formed in your eyes. You felt like a kid again, being scolded and taken for granted. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but this isn’t some fantasyland,” Ona said firmly. “I told you what I wanted, and I thought you agreed.”

There was a period of struggle over the ball soon after, mostly in midfield. You were growing increasingly frustrated as passes continued being cut off just before they reached the attacking third.

“Come on, guys! Let’s finish this!” You called out to your teammates in an attempt to hype them up before a throw-in.

Your irritation mounted, but you told yourself to quickly snap out of it. I need to stay calm, my team needs me. It proved quite difficult when Lena Oberdorf slithered up from behind to mark you. She dug an elbow into your back to keep you at bay, and when you moved, she moved. So you pushed back, much harder than you anticipated. It set her off. Good, stay off me.

Soon, you heard the ref’s hurried whistle, as Lena shoved you back. “The fuck are you pushing for?!” Your opponent seethed, getting all up in your face to challenge you.

You were feeling bold, so you smirked at her. “Come closer, see what I’ll do. Or do you just want a piece of this, huh?”

It wasn’t your best quality, you admitted it, but you liked it when you set off an opponent. You didn’t care when Lena was hurling insults at you in German as she was being led away. What mattered was that you had gotten in her head, and it would be much easier to break her defense from now on. The referee blew her whistle again, and a few teammates of yours attempted to separate you from Lena.

“Sei ruhig, Mann. Bleib’ da drüben.” Be quiet, man. Stay over there. Waving at her dismissively, you saw the way her eyes looked like they would pop out of her sockets in fury, knowing she didn’t expect you to know German. You couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Last warning, Y/L/N.” The referee warned before continuing the match.

There would always be one player that completely drove the opposition crazy, and you would gladly be that asshole, so your teammates wouldn’t have to. You wanted to win.

“You kissed me first. I thought . . .”

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Ona said quietly.

“I thought we had something, Ona,” you tried to steady your voice. You knew you sounded pathetic, but you never believed Ona could betray you in such a way.

She only pressed her lips thin. “We don’t. The only thing we have is our arrangement and however you feel about me on the pitch.”

Bunny scored in the 75th minute, and that would be the last goal for City in this match. The game went to extra time, and you could feel your teammates getting tired and sloppy in possession. You were tired too, but you wanted to keep fighting, anything to keep the thought of Ona out of your head.

You were so focused on the ball that you didn’t see a defender coming up beside you, her body colliding with yours in an attempt to redirect the ball. You fell to the ground with a thud, the stinging impact beginning to spread across your back. You felt the wind getting knocked out of you, your vision beginning to fade until all you could see were the lights atop the stadium, until those faded too.

The next thing you knew, you were on your side. Then the uncomfortable pain in your gut started to become more apparent, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. You gasped for air, just as a couple of your teammates knelt beside you.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Medic!” You heard a voice almost like Demi’s call out.

You didn’t know who knocked into you, you didn’t care anymore, because you had the overwhelming urge to throw up whilst still struggling to breathe.

“Can’t . . . breathe,” you wheezed out, tears starting to fill your eyes. You wanted to go home.

One of the medics shone a flashlight in your eyes. “Pupils are PEARL,” she said. “Okay, I need you to try and take deep breaths for me, alright, darling?”

You drew a shaky breath. There was a wheezing noise, in and out. In and out. The more you did, the easier it got. Your head was dizzy when you stood up, just as you heard applause ringing throughout the stadium.

Chloe appeared in front of you and offered her arm while a medic took your other as you walked toward the sideline.

“You’re alright, love,” she flashed you a warm smile and wiped away the stray tear that lingered on your cheek.

It was much too unfortunate, because you still had a lot more to give, but you were done for the night. Gareth knew it too, so he sent Hempo in to take your place.

You finally let the tears fall freely when the final whistle came.

“When do you leave?”

“In two weeks.”

A scornful laugh escaped you that you didn’t even bother to hide. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me, not as your booty call, but as your friend.”

But you were kidding yourself. You knew Ona and you were never friends, never quite lovers either. Only two people floating around in a sexual limbo who were too scared to admit to themselves what was right in front of them. Now she was leaving, and you would never get the chance.

It didn’t matter anymore, any of it. You had a Champions League semifinal to play.

ESPN: Wolfsburg Grabs Victory in Extra Time to Reach Women’s Champions League Final “[…]”

a/n: it was so heartwarming to see the support for jenni and the players :’) it’s abt fuckin time man let’s hope this continues until rubiales and vilda’s resignation

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle angst #ona batlle #woso

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 4 months

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a/n: a quick little something that i couldn’t stop thinking about so i had to write it. the final hockey fic of the year and it feels fitting that it’s barzy after all the love you gave me on the last one. there’ll be more to come with this little family so join me for the ride in 2024! happy new year, all! 🫶🏻

word count: 3.4k

tw: super brief innuendo, vague mention of bad birth experience, brief mention of negative body image

summary: you and mat bring talia to meet santa at the islanders family holiday skate

You hum along to the Christmas song playing on the Alexa speaker, dancing and making silly face at Talia so she’ll laugh while you’re getting her ready instead of freaking out. “Santa, baby, slip a sable under the tree,” you croon in an off-key, over the top voice, “for meeee.”

She giggles, displaying the one and a half teeth she has popping out of her bottom gums. You bicycle her legs on the changing table, making quick work of her diaper change. “So, what are we thinking for the fit today, Miss T?” You tickle her bare tummy and blow a little raspberry on her skin, making her shriek with laughter again. “Oooh, I just love that sound.”

It’s two weeks before Christmas, Talia’s first, and you’re getting ready to head over to Northwell for the Islanders’ family holiday party. You’re excited to have Talia meet Santa and skate with her and Mat. The house is decorated, you’re speeding along to the actual holiday, and Talia’s being the sweetest baby. It’s wild to think that this time last year you were telling Mat about your pregnancy and after the craziness of the last few months of your pregnancy and Talia’s birth, you’re finally feeling more normal and less anxious about doing something wrong.

“Maybe a dress,” you lift the seven-month-old onto your hip and wander over to her closet, where all the clothes are color cordinated, thanks to Liana’s Thanksgiving visit. You flip through the tiny clothes, the little hangers clacking against the rack. Talia bounces on your hip, kicking her feet and you’re convinced that you have a permanent bruise on your ass cheek from where her little heel constantly makes contact. “Or how about the little plaid jumpsuit from Auntie Syd?”

Talia giggles and yanks at your hair. You wince and take your hand away from the jumpsuit. “Okay, maybe not the jumpsuit. I’m thinking red velvet dress for Santa and something warmer for skating, what to you think, Talia Bee?”

You continue to narrate your actions while you pick out the little red velvet dress that you’d been unable to resist when you went to the Americana a few weeks ago. It’s so soft and you know Talia, with her dark hair and light eyes, is going to look like a Christmas angel. She’s the perfect mix of you and Mat, with Mat’s coloring, and you just want to spend your time staring at her and cuddling her, especially because you hadn’t been able to hold her right away after her early birth. Emotion clogs your throat as you think about those scary first days and weeks, and you make the effort to push those emotions away, kissing the baby on her forehead. “Okay, mama’s being silly,” you murmur. “Let’s get you ready.”

Talia’s decked out in her little tights and the dress, kicking her feet happily, hands fisting the soft velvet fabric of her dress. You brush her shock of dark hair off her forehead, tidying it up with a little red bow hairclip, before lifting her up and helping her stand on the changing table. She bounces her knees, squealing excitedly, and your heart expands.

You settle her back on your hip once she’s dressed and move around to pack the diaper bag, tossing the outfit change - a pair of hunter green corduroy leggings and a fluffy white pullover with a hood and bear ears - into the separate compartment from the diapers and everything else. You make sure there’s another, less fancy outfit change in the bag as well, plus her diapers and a whole host of toys to keep her occupied.

The Christmas playlist shuffles back to “Santa Baby” and you laugh a little, singing along dramatically to make Talia giggle. You dance around with her in your arms and jump when Mat’s voice breaks in through the music and your singing, “she’s really whoring herself out for Santa, huh?”

You turn and there’s your husband, leaning against the door to the baby’s nursery, looking handsome as sin in his dark jeans and cream sweater. His hair is slightly damp from his shower and he’s barefoot. A teasing smile splits his face.

You grin back at him, adjusting your grip on Talia as she lunges in your arms for Mat. “She’s just a woman who knows what she wants,” you reply, handing Talia over to him. He takes her easily and kisses her cheek.

Mat scoffs. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to me. Talia Bee looks like she’s ready to meet Santa, huh?” He wrinkles his nose at her and she giggles, grabbing at his face, little fingers hooking in his mouth. He play bites at them and she giggles, bumping her head against Mat’s. “Ow,” he mumbles.

You wipe subtly at your eyes, hormones still a little wonky, and Mat shakes his head at you. “No tears. I’ve got Princess T, we’ll hang out while you get ready,” he says, reaching out to nudge at your side to get you moving. He turns to Talia and says, “right, T? Daddy will entertain you while Mama gets even prettier than she already is.”

“Charmer,” you roll your eyes. “Do not let her get messy, please.”

“Oh, there went my plans to finger paint,” he laughs, making Talia laugh too. Their faces are nearly identical when they laugh and you can’t believe that this is your life.

When you finish getting ready, after only some minimal negative thoughts about the few extra pounds still lingering on your body, you find Mat and Talia in the den, entertaining each other. Mat’s laying on his stomach on the couch, a hand extended to Talia with a pile of puffs on his palm. He watches as Talia pinches one at a time and puts them carefully in her mouth. “Good job, T,” Mat coos, his free hand rubbing at the bottom of her foot.

“Puffs were a smart choice,” you comment, grinning when Talia looks over at you and immediately ignores Mat and the snacks in favor of waving her hands at you for you to pick her up.

Mat rolls partially onto his side to look at you and immediately wolf whistles, making you blush. “Hot mama,” he says, teasing you with his words. But the look in his eyes is all genuine heat and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Stop that,” you wave him off, lifting Talia onto your hip. “I probably shouldn’t even be wearing these pants,” your free hand smooths over the black leather on your thigh, “I need to lose like another ten pounds.”

“You’re literally the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” Mat says sincerely, getting to his feet and popping the remaining palmful of puffs into his mouth. The baby snacks are surprisingly delicious. He chews, swallows, and says, “if we weren’t nearly running late, I’d a thousand percent eat you out on the couch right now.”

“Mat!” You yelp his name and cover Talia’s ear with your free hand. “Little ears!”

“She has no idea what I’m saying,” he laughs, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you. His tongue slides past your lips and you deepen the kiss, grinning against his mouth until Talia lets out a shriek because neither of you is paying attention to her. Mat pulls back from the kiss and laughs harder, giving her a dramatic, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Can’t forget about the princess.”

You kiss her other cheek, smushing her face in between yours and Mat’s and Talia giggles happily, kicking her legs and pushing at your faces with her hands.

Talia naps a little in the car, her head lolling and cheek pressed against the side of her car seat. Mat’s hand stays firmly on your thigh for the entire drive and you try not to think about the way your thighs spread when you’re sitting. But when you get to the practice rink and all of the kids are running around, it’s easier to push those thoughts away. Mat carries the diaper bag and the skates while you have Talia and your purse.

“Let the party begin,” he crows dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. You snort a laugh behind him while some of the guys roll their eyes at him.

“Party’s already started,” Bo teases, “with Barzy fashionably late.”

“Do you think these good looks just happen naturally?” Mat asks, pouting like Zoolander.

Noah breezes by with Brock’s two oldest kids yanking on his hands. He comments, “yeah, we all knew it took you a lot of work to look halfway decent.”

“Please continue chirping him,” you say, “his ego’s almost too big for the house.” Mat helps you take off your jacket while you’re still holding Talia and he takes the opportunity to pinch your ass in retaliation. “Ouch! I’m sorry,” you giggle. Talia tugs at your hair and you’re convinced that sometimes father and daughter have a psychic connection.

Mat wanders off to put your jackets somewhere and you end up in a little huddle with Sydney, Kristy, and Holly. They take turns cooing over Talia’s little dress and she thrives on the attention, giving them gummy smiles and giggles, drool covering her chin that you have to keep wiping off. The older kids are all wandering around, running in the open areas, and the noise echoes off the high ceilings in the rink’s lobby. It’s decorated for the holidays and you find yourself looking around for Mat to see if he’ll join you for a picture in front of the tree.

He appears, with a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head, and Jack Cizikas hanging off his back. “Did anyone see Jack?” He asks seriously, looking between you and the other women. “We can’t find him!”

Jack’s giggles are infectious and you find yourself laughing too, bouncing Talia on your lap. “Did you check the ice?” You ask and Mat turns around, like a dog chasing its tail, with Jack swinging around, laughing hysterically.

“I’m here!” He yelps and slides off Mat’s back. Mat widens his eyes in a dramatic expression.

“Whoa! Have you been there the whole time?” Mat shakes his head. “Your dad and I couldn’t find you!”

Jack looks up at Mat and then over at his mom, who’s hiding a laugh behind her hand. “Mom, isn’t Mat supposed to be good at spotting things?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Like pucks? I’m bigger than a puck!”

With that, he runs off to find the other kids, leaving the adults laughing in his wake. Mat shakes his head, “damn. The kid’s a savage.”

Kristy shrugs, “he spends too much time around hockey players.”

“That’s why we’re only having daughters,” Mat says to you, cupping his hand over Talia’s head. “They’re nicer to their dads than boys are.” Talia reaches for him and wraps her entire hand around his ring and pinky fingers.

You snort, “wait until the teenage years, I don’t think you’ll be singing the same tune.”

“Forget teenage years,” Sydney laughs, “Winnie’s terrible twos almost prevented Alice from even existing at all.”

“Let me have my fantasy,” Mat grins. “You guys are mean, right T? You’re not gonna be mean to Daddy when you’re older?” He lifts her from your lap and hugs her close, wincing when she yanks at a hunk of his hair while she giggles, leaving a spot of drool on his shoulder.

“How about we try that Santa picture while she’s in a good mood?” You suggest, getting to your feet to disentangle her chubby fingers from Mat’s hair. The last thing you need is for him to think another buzz cut is a good idea.

The other wives nod. Holly chimes in, “you have to get that picture before nap time otherwise it’s a total loss.”

Kyle and Ashlee are finishing up their pictures with Santa when you and Mat get over to the little workshop area that’s been set up. Luca’s grinning from ear to ear, a candy cane clutched in his fist. “Candy!” He cheers when he sees you and Mat, brandishing the sweet and nearly whacking Ashlee in the eye. She ducks a little and huffs a laugh through her nose.

“Not the first candy cane he’s had today,” she admits to you, while Kyle holds out a hand to Talia for a high-five. Mat helps her give the other man a slap on the palm and all three cheer.

“She’s still sugar free,” you grin. “But I can’t vouch for how much sugar the big child has had.”

“Absolutely none,” Mat cuts in haughtily. “This energy is all natural life endorphins, Squeaks.”

Mat’s natural life endorphins have him practically bouncing in to see Santa, all big smile and bright eyes. You’re both so excited to see Talia meet Santa for the first time and the man the team’s hired looks absolutely perfect for the part. He greets you all happily, with a booming voice full of joy. “Ho ho ho!” He laughs. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Talia,” you tell Santa with a big cheesy grin on your face. Mat has her facing forward, one forearm propped under her butt and the other wrapped securely around her stomach. She squints at Santa curiously, suspiciously, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Oh, ho! Talia, have you been a good girl this year?” Santa asks, a twinkle in his eye that you don’t think can be faked. He must be a grandfather in his real life, you think while snapping photos.

Talia pinches her lips together, her eyebrows drawing together in a furrow. Mat jiggles her up ans down a little, “T, why don’t you show off that Barzal charm? Give Santa a smile.”

“She’s usually very chatty,” you explain to Santa, who shrugs and says he’s seen it all. Mat lifts one shoulder too and goes to hand Talia over to Santa so you can get a picture, but the second she leaves Mat’s hands, Talia begins sobbing, letting out an earsplitting wail.

“Oh my god!” You take her back immediately, holding her against your shoulder and swaying so she’ll calm down. Mat’s apologizing in the background. “Oh, Talia Bee, it’s okay. Mama and Daddy are sorry. You’re okay.”

She keeps crying on your shoulder and you wince at Mat, who looks shocked and says, “I had no idea she’d freak out like that.”

“It happens much more often than you’d think,” Santa offers kindly. “The littlest ones like to have mom and dad in the picture too.”

Talia hiccups in your arms, she’s stopped crying now, but her face is still all red. You pepper soft kisses over her cheeks and forehead, cuddling her close until she starts chewing on the side of her fist quietly. Her head is tucked under your chin and she looks over at Santa with a pretty impressive stink eye, considering she’s only seven months old.

“I’ll keep a hold of her,” you tell Mat, “and we can all just get a group shot. Hopefully that doesn’t set her off.”

He agrees and sits on one side of Santa while you take the other, carefully keeping Talia from seeing Santa directly. You smile and tickle Talia lightly, hoping it gets her to smile at least. Once the picture is taken, Santa offers you both a jolly smile and Mat a candy cane. He takes it happily and immediately unwraps it to pop it in his mouth with the hook part hanging out of his mouth. He scrolls through the photos that were taken and cracks up at one, showing it to you as you head back towards the main lobby.

“Oh god,” you giggle at the photo of Talia freaking out, her face bright red and mouth opened in that horrible wail. “This is so mean to laugh at.”

“At least when she needs therapy for her Santa phobia we can show her this as the starting point,” Mat jokes, while setting one of the nicer photos of the three of you as his new phone background.

“You’re horrible,” you swat at his arm, adjusting Talia on your hip. She grumbles and nuzzles her face against your shoulder, patting at your chest. She lets out a high pitched squeal and you kiss her cheek. “Okay, I know. You’re hungry, right, baby? Daddy can go get Mama a snack and I’ll feed you.”

You turn to Mat and give him puppy dog eyes. He’s already laughing when you ask, “will you get me snacks while I feed your child?”

He snorts. “Of course. What do you want, sweet or salty?” While he waits for your answer, Mat cups his hand over Talia’s head and rubs his thumb over the shell of her ear. His love language has always been physical touch, his hands always on your body in some way, and now he does it to Talia, constantly holding her little hand or cupping his palm over her head.

“How about a little mix of everything?” You reply, leaning over Talia to give him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into one of the side offices so you can feed the baby. Mat brings a plate of snacks and once you’re done feeding Talia, he takes her to burp so you can get straightened out. While he pats her back, Mat tells Talia how excited he is to take her on the ice and how cute she’s going to look in her little sweater. You love when he’s extra adorable with her, it honestly makes you want to give him a dozen more babies. When Talia’s a little older and you’ve had some more distance from your labor with her you’re going to bring it up with Mat.

Half the team is already on the ice when you get to the rink after changing the baby into her warmer outfit. Everyone’s having a good time skating and the kids all look beyond delighted to be taking turns skating with their dads. You sit on the lowest bleacher level and watch Mat make quick work of his skate laces, tying off the knots efficiently. You go to hand Talia over so you can lace up your own pair, but Mat kneels in front of you instead.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him pull off your boots. He cups a hand around your ankle and guides your foot to the skate boot. You automatically wiggle your feet into the skates, reflexively stomping down so your heel settles into place. He adjusts the tongue of the skate and makes quick work of your laces too, knotting them tightly.

“Taking care of my girl,” he replies with a cheeky grin before patting your ankle to signify that he’s done and you can stand up. Talia reaches for Mat and he takes her, knowing that you’d rather he hold her while you’re on skates since he’s more comfortable walking on the blades.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, following him onto the ice, your phone in hand to take pictures. Talia’s eyes are wide and Mat holds her securely while she has her head practically on a swivel to watch all the action. She waves to everyone as they skate past, excitedly kicking her legs in Mat’s arms. Whenever one of the guys waves to her, she squeals happily, nearly falling out of Mat’s arms in order to reach for Gunnar Horvat when Bo skates past with him. Mat laughs and picks up his speed a bit to get the breeze on her face.

Your stomach twists a little nervously and you follow him, slower of course, saying, “Mat, don’t go too fast, okay? I don’t want - just be careful!”

He nods and slows down, spinning to face you and skate backwards a little. They both have matching looks of joy on their faces. “This is the best,” he grins, bouncing Talia in his arms and then leaning down to let her feet touch the ice. She giggles, kicking at it, and you take video, knowing you’re going to watch it back a million times. “She’s a real ice baby.”

“It’s in her blood,” you wave at Talia from behind the camera so she’ll look at you. Mat helps her wave back and swings her a little, grip firm under her armpits. She shrieks with delight as he swings her back up into the air and into his arms. Her little cheeks and nose are pink and the fluffy fleece makes her look like a little polar bear. “You are the cutest little baby in the world,” you can’t help but coo at her.

“All thanks to her having the cutest mom in the world,” Mat winks at you, skating away with a laugh.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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harrysdaydream-tpwk · 10 months

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“I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch- H.S”

summary: Harry and you argue after his show at Wembley and he gets jealous and pissy. Angst ensues

warnings: arguments, swearing, angst with a happy ending

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The door slammed shut behind him, his footsteps heavy, even on the carpeted floor. You sighed, tired and weary. It had been a long night and by the looks of it, it was about to get even longer.

Harry huffed, taking off his shoes with more force than necessary, throwing them in the general direction of his open suitcase. He wasn’t wearing the colourful outfit anymore, looking much more like yours in the black nike shorts and worn-out t-shirt you’ve seen far too many times on him. You stood in the doorway between the ensuite bathroom and the bedroom, watching him quietly as he ran his fingers through his brown hair repeatedly-noting it had get even longer since the last time you saw him.

He looked up at you finally, his eyes stormy and half-lidded. He was mad, furious even and you weren’t totally sure why. You hadn’t seen him for three weeks, the tour taking a toll on your relationship and you had hoped this night would’ve at least be a change to your boring office life, a moment with the man you loved so dearly.

“What is your problem?”, you said demanding, sounding harsher than intended. Your arms were crossed in front of your chest, you yourself still dressed in the outfit you had chosen for tonight’s show. A pink, puffy dress, matching cowboy boots and hat. Hell, you had even put on a boa, going all out.

“My-“, he breathed out, before getting louder, “My problem? What the hell is your problem? We haven’t seen each other in almost a month and you already go around flirting with other guys? At my own damn show nonetheless?” He stood up from where he was sat on the king sized bed, taking a step closer to you.

“What?”, you sputtered unbelievingly. “What the fuck are you even talking about? All I did was talk to your mum and your sister, I haven’t seen either of them since Christmas and you just accuse me of things that didn’t even happen? Fuck you.” Tears gathered in your eyes and he noticed, faltering slightly.

“I saw you”, he started, pointing his finger at you,” Talking to him. I don’t know who he was, I don’t even care. I just know you were laughing pretty hard at his jokes or whatever he was telling you. A little too much to just be friendly.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. Ryan-“

He interrupted you before you could even finish. “Oh, Ryan”, he mocked, “Is that his name? Gotta be careful you don’t start moaning his name the next time we fuck.”

He was getting really worked up now, the vain on his forehead popping and you were getting angrier by the minute too. He had always been jealous, even a little possessive, and it was getting on your nerves.

“Ryan is an old friend from school, you asshole. You know him, I invited him to my birthday party two years ago. He’s gay, Harry, so he’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in him. It’s just a coincidence, he told me you were really nice to him when he met you and that he wanted to support you. Although, I don’t expect him to think so highly of you if he knew what you’re throwing at me right now.” You took a deep breath in, the tears finally breaching free. You couldn’t keep them in any longer.

You were exhausted, travelling from home to see him at Wembley, his concert of two hours and then this argument on top of it. The weak and selfish part of you just wanted him to hold you, while the bigger part just wanted to yell at him some more. You missed him and he was treating you so unfairly.

“I missed you”, you whispered, “I just wanted to spend the night with you peacefully, you’re my home, Harry. Why don’t you ever make me feel like I’m yours too?” You let out a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth defeated.

“Oh. Oh, Y/N.” His eyes were soft now, staring at you unnervingly. “Here, sit down, my love. You look like you’ll fall over any minute.” He guided you to a chair nearby, pushing you down gently.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered, kneeling before you. His face was illuminated by the lights of London outside the big hotel window. “This tour has taken a toll on me, I missed you so much more, Y/N, you have to believe me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just got so upset over the thought of you with someone else. I’m so selfish, I wish I could have you by my side everyday, you know? I love you and I never want to hurt you, not like this. Not over something I have so obviously perceived wrongly.”

You laughed wetly, your make-up probably smudged, making you look like a hot mess. “You know, I’m starting to think that you were right when you sang that you were just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit that he’s sorry.” He chuckled quietly, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“I forgive you”, you said, kissing his palm, which was still holding your face gently, “But never say something like this to me again. I’d never cheat on you, not in a million chances. You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine. We’ve got to figure out a way to see each other more, even when I’m touring and you’re working. I can’t go a day without you, without missing your beautiful face.”

You smiled softly, leaning down and he took the invitation to press a gentle, closed- mouthed kiss to your lips, a promise you understood, you accepted.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

lmk what you think<3 haven’t written in a while so i’m a bit rusty! i’m also working on a larger project that should hopefully be up in a few weeks. until then i’ll try my luck with smaller blurbs and one shots. enjoy!<3

#harry styles fanfictio #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction rec #harry styles wembley #harry styles concert #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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daimyosprincess · 3 months

Text

AN HONEST DAY'S WORK

—PAIRING: Contractor!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: You have a very special project you want your parents’ contractor, Boba Fett, to work on.

—WORD COUNT: 9k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, contractor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), reader described as having hair, Boba is a dirty old man and doesn’t mind saying so 😈, likely an excessive use of pet names by yours truly, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), squirting, cum eating, soft Boba 🥹, mentions of a shitty ex

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you @baufraus for slapping a tool belt on that old man, you’re doing the lord’s work 😌 Enjoy besties 💖

Divider by the @saradika

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

What a pleasant thing to be woken up by your alarm, you think, stretching out in a luxurious full body stretch under your flowery covers. After a month and a half of what felt like constant construction right outside your window, waking to your buzzing alarm was a welcome relief from the jagged sounds of powertools and hard machinery.

While you love your parents dearly, their desire to turn the backyard of your childhood home into a suburban oasis has been a less than pleasant experience for you. They certainly deserved to enjoy their retirement after putting you and your siblings through school, but the necessity of such renovations during your last year of your masters was dubious to you at best.

All in all though, you can’t complain. You live in their spacious, boomer-bought house rent-free and enjoy a home-cooked meal every night; you have your mom to dote on you when you get sick and your dad to defrost your car in the cold winter mornings. Even with the long hours of inescapable noise and constant stream of people in and around the house, you’re grateful to be there. And, if you’re completely honest, you’re also extremely grateful for the unexpected front row seat to watch the handsome contractor heading the whole operation.

Boba Fett hasn’t left your thoughts since the day he arrived at your front door dressed in khaki cargo pants, a form fitting t-shirt, and a tool belt slung low across his hips. His perfect white smile and smoldering dark eyes left you speechless then and have continued to bedevil you ever since, winding your insides (and panties) into knots. The fact that he’s somehow a perfect gentleman to you while simultaneously being the most incorrigible flirt that ever lived hasn’t helped in the least. Between his sparkling winks, dazzling smile, and delicious voice calling you “princess” and “sweetheart,” you haven’t known a moment’s peace—even when the crew finally went home in the evenings.

It’s all enough to drive you totally insane.

Lucky for him, however, it hasn’t. Staring up at the familiar ceiling above you, you smile: today is the day you will finally have your revenge. The contractor had teased and poked at you for weeks and you’d been powerless to do anything more than glower and huff at him due to the constant company of your parents and his crew. But now you have him all to yourself for an entire day with the house to yourself and his workers off—and you have no intention of showing him any mercy.

It’s been nearly two years since you’ve had anything close to what one could consider “action.” Between school and your research fellowship, you haven’t had any time to go to parties or bars or wherever adults are supposed to meet people to do it with. No, for two long years, it has been you and your vibrator against the world.

Boba Fett is going to fix that.

After a quick shower and a punched-up version of your morning routine, you’re almost ready to set your plan into motion. Flicking through your closet, you decide on your favorite floral sundress with a pair of cute sandals. Now dressed, you smooth your hands down the light fabric, smiling at your reflection in the mirror; you look sweet enough to eat. And lick. And suck. And-

Heat flares in your belly at the thought of Boba’s large, work-rough hands pulling up the hem of your dress to kiss up your soft thighs, his tongue spelling out all the dirty, awful things he wants to do to you in your parents’ own home… his lips wrapping around that desperate, aching spot between your legs and making that burning need finally go away in an explosion of pent-up pleasure.

Fuck. You bite down hard on your lip to stop from hopping back beneath your covers and touching yourself to the rest of that particular fantasy. The only thing that keeps you from sneaking in a quickie with your hand clamped over your mouth so his name doesn’t spill out is the chance to have him do all those things to you for real.

Taking a deep breath, you push away your lewd imaginings and check your phone. You have just enough time to grab your books and position yourself on the deck before Boba arrives to finish whatever project your parents told you about. Railings? Pool pump? Painting? Doesn’t matter.

With one last check in the mirror, you hurry towards your bedroom door only to stop short a second later. Before you can think better of it, you snatch down your panties and toss them over your shoulder with a grin.

Chancing a glance over the top of your unread book, you spy Boba leaning across a board and marking it with a flat drafting pencil. The suggestive slant of his hips and the sheen of perspiration on his brow made a slew of very suggestive images flood your brain. Was it possible to be attracted to the way someone clenches their jaw?

Boba had to be showing off. There’s simply no explanation for why he needed to carry that much lumber on his shoulder or measure that many things high enough for his gray t-shirt to ride up and reveal a tempting peek at the dark trail of hair leading into his jeans. And since when did there need to be so much drilling? He is sorely beating you at your own game, and that simply would not do—not when you need him so bad you’re scheming and panty-less in your parents’ backyard.

“See something you like, princess?”

Kark. Shaking your head, you blink your eyes like you’ve been caught deep into your reading. “Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

He straightens, arching a brow as he dusts himself off. As you follow his hands across his strong torso and thighs you realize too late that your eyes have wandered to his crotch. Smirking, Boba runs a palm over his face to wipe away the sweat there. “Never mind that,” he chuckles, “Could I interrupt your ‘study session’ for something to drink?”

The audacity of this man! Scoffing at your (admittedly weak) attempt at school work like he hasn’t been putting on a show himself for the past hour and a half.

You’re not going to let yourself be beat at your own game. Plastering on a big smile, you answer in a honey-sweet voice. “Actually, my mom made some sandwiches and lemonade since you had to come by on your day off. Why don’t you freshen up and take a seat over here,” you motion to the couch across from you, “and I’ll be out with lunch in a couple minutes.”

Boba watches with an amused smile as you trot past him into the cool of the house, taking your unspoken invitation to stare at your ass as you do so. When you re-emerge a few minutes later with the promised food and drink, he’s spread out over the couch with a fresh shirt on and looking every bit as regal as a king on a throne. You suppose it’s only fitting that he calls you his princess when he thanks you for bringing out the meal.

Picking up a sandwich, Boba nods to your stack of readings on the side table. “Lot of books you got there, princess. What are you in school for?”

You’re ready to give him some giggly, flippant reply but the genuine look of interest on his face stops you. For a stricken second you’re tongue tied by the thought of your parents’ hot contractor being genuinely interested in you as a person. Shimmering, unbidden fantasies float through your mind of Boba pulling out your chair for you on a date, the two of you sitting around a bonfire with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, him kissing the top of your head as he leaves for work in the morning. The images curl through the heat of your desire for him, mixing with the safe warmth and happiness he brings you.

Maybe…

You quickly scramble to answer before your imagination can run rampant and put dangerous thoughts of something more with him into your head.

“Speech-language pathology and therapy. Originally I was doing special education but then I really enjoyed my communicative disorders class, so my professor helped me apply to an internship program that convinced me to change my concentration. I even got into the fellowship program in the speech lab at St. Mary’s this semester and-”

You look up to see Boba staring at you so fondly that it makes your chest ache and your words evaporate into flushed smoke. “Oh, u-um, sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear all that… basically, I’m studying ways to help people speak easier.” You take a long sip of lemonade to avoid saying anything else, mentally kicking yourself to get it together. You have a plan and you need to stick to it, no matter how tingly and fuzzy he makes your heart feel.

The couch creaks as Boba shifts forward to rest his forearms on his knees so he can meet your downcast eyes. “Hey… never apologize for your passion. Not many people have what you have, or the drive to go after it. That’s something to be proud of, sweetheart.”

That same warm, shimmery feeling from before returns and you smile at him. “Thanks,” you murmur, wondering if it’s normal for his tenderness to make you want to get in his pants even more. You don’t care either way. Clearing your throat, you roll back your shoulders and lean back against the plump cushions. “Well I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got any more, uh, “measuring” to do.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he winks.

“Right.” He nods to his cleared plate. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Of course,” you assure him, “gotta make sure you keep your strength up for any… activities you might get up to.”

Boba laughs rich and deep as he pushes up from the couch. “You really are too good to me, princess.”

If only he knew just how good I can be.

The following hour passes in pleasant, if sexually charged, silence as both of you vie to make the other crack first. When he lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face, revealing the thick wall of muscle and softer belly underneath, you finally decide enough is enough. If he’s playing dirty, you will too.

Reaching your arms above your head, you stretch and let out a suggestive groan that has Boba’s head snapping towards you. Of course, you pretend you don’t notice and continue your stretch, leisurely easing out your legs to their full length. With his eyes boring into you, you purposefully slide your knees up the couch cushions so the hem of your flowy dress rides dangerously high up your thighs. You can physically feel the tables turning in your favor, upper hand slipping from him to you in this one powerful, heady moment.

Tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze, you savor the feeling, watching through your lashes as his breath stutters in his chest. Then, taking your lip between your teeth, you slowly open your thighs, one, then the other, to reveal the glistening folds hidden between them.

For a brief second, it seems like he’s going to snap the board in his hands with the way his muscles strain against his shirt. When you moan a quiet little sound as you stretch again, he slams the wood down and stalks over you with his fists clenching.

Blinking up at him with siren eyes, you give him a sultry smile. “See something you like, handsome?” you mimic, reaching out to drag your fingers down his arm.

He snatches up your hand in a tight grip. “Careful, princess,” Boba warns in a low, scraped voice. “Think very carefully about-”

Before you can chicken out, you flip the front of your dress above your waist with your free hand. “About this?”

Boba sucks in a sharp breath and stares for a long second, the muscles in his jaw working in tight feathers before he yanks your dress back down over your legs. “Sweetheart, I’m serious,” he shuts his eyes and exhales heavily. “Think about what you’re offering.”

As if you haven’t thought about this very thing for weeks on end, writhing and panting to the thought of Boba Fett doing every dirty thing to you that you could come up with. No, if anything, you need to stop thinking and start feeling everything your wicked thoughts had conjured up about this man.

“Boba, please,” you whine, the feel of his hand on your skin making your voice desperate, “I’m sure, I’m so, so sure I swear.” His grip tightens and you can sense he’s waiting to hear for something more concrete. “I’ve thought about you every day, every night… I want you, Boba. Please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart…” His skin burns against yours and he curses again, dropping your wrist and coming to his knees in front of you. “Tell me then,” he grunts, bracing himself between your thighs, “tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

Pure, molten want burns in his eyes, igniting the desperate tinder of your desire. What didn’t you want him to do? You’ve dreamed about him taking you every possible way in every possible place, groaning your name and screwing you senseless. What could you say when you want everything he’ll give you?

Luckily, your tongue has the answer your brain does not. “Kiss me,” you gasp, “Please kriffing kiss me.”

And like he’d been waiting his entire life to hear you say those very words, he’s on you, pushing you back against the pillows and crashing his perfect lips against yours in a scorching fury. Your body welcomes his intensity, instinctually shaping itself around his strong hips and wide shoulders as you claw at him to get closer. Fuck, you’re already greedy for him, your skin thirsting for his and your pussy soaking your dress beneath it.

“W-wait,” you gasp, hating the way he immediately recoils even as you appreciate his caution. You don’t want to give Boba any reason to stop but you don’t want to embarrass yourself in the heat of things either. “I’ve never, um, well… I’ve never had… never with someone else.” You wince; your words sound even worse than they did tripping through your head. Anxiety pricks your heated skin—you want to bury yourself into his shirt and hide there forever.

Why did you bring this up? You should’ve just gone with it like before.

When he speaks, Boba’s voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Princess, baby, look at me.” He rolls the both of you up to a sitting position, giving you just enough space to pull away if you needed to while still being close. Gently taking one of your clenched fists into his large hand, he smooths your fingers out, rubbing soothing circles into your palm with his thumb.

You sneak a peek at him. Gone is the hot fervor of passion that previously colored his features; now he’s a softer shade that beckons you into his comfort.

“There she is,” he smiles, rewarding you with his own when you force your face up to his. The urgent tear of worry in your chest eases and you melt into his side. “Now, how about you tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?”

“Really, it’s nothing,” you try, knowing it won’t work as soon as you say it. All you want to do is go back to him kissing the air out of your lungs and to have his fingers brushing over your soaked slit, but Boba isn’t going to let you off the hook.

Damn him and his honorable ways.

Boba sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He lays his cheek on top of your head and wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Listen, if all this is happening too fast, if you want to stop here, we can. I won’t be mad, baby. Your first time should be with someone special, and if that’s not me then that’s alright.”

First time? Realization dawns on you a second later and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from your belly. Giggling, you arch up and give the confused man next to you a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you, Boba, really. But that’s not what I meant.” A new kind of nervousness pools in your gut now, one that swirls with hot anticipation rather than cold dread.

Grabbing his free hand for support, you look into the warm depth of his eyes as his fingers curl around yours. “What I was trying to say was that… well, that no one else has ever made me come before. I’ve made myself come plenty of times but,” yikes, did you have to say that?, “I’ve only been with one other guy and he never made me… I mean, I got close one time but he never actually made me finish.”

The concerned look on Boba’s face melts into a glorious laugh that rumbles your chest. Before you know it, you’re both laughing and kissing in between delighted gasps for air. A bright sense of joy permeates every cell in your body and you tuck it safely inside your heart. If this was your first time, you know that you’d want it to be with him. Maybe you’ll pretend this is your first time.

“Oh, sweetheart, is that what you’re worried about?” he finally sighs, his warm breath tickling your neck. You nod against him.

In one quick motion, Boba scoops you up into his lap, wrapping his arms around you to grab your ass through your dress. “Are you worried that I won’t be able to make you scream and shake when I lick and stroke your perfect little pussy? Hmm?” He groans into your ear when you shiver against him. “Babygirl, don’t you worry one bit. I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna make you feel so amazing you’re not going to be able to sit out here ever again without remembering how I made you cry with how good it feels.”

This time, you’re the one who slams your lips against his, stealing whatever dark, sweet words he had left from his tongue. You mewl into his open mouth as he rocks your bare core over the thick denim straining over his erection. The seam of his jeans catches your clit perfectly and you would have cried out loud enough for the neighbors three houses down to hear if Boba hadn’t held your face against his.

“Easy there, beautiful,” Boba chuckles, “we don’t need everyone knowing what we’re up to, not till we’re done anyways, yeah?” You hum in agreement and bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling his clean smell and the surprisingly attractive scent of a day’s work clinging to his skin. “Now, tell me about this boy before, did he make you feel good? Make you want to flash your bare cunt to him and beg him to take you where anyone could walk around and see?”

Your crappy college boyfriend never made you want anything remotely like what Boba’s saying. The only thing he ever made you want was for him to hurry up so you could go in the bathroom and finish yourself off. He had been nice enough, but, nice enough didn’t make your eyes cross and pussy wet. “He never, shit, he never…” you gasp as Boba grinds you harder against himself, “I had to beg him to eat me out and even then he complained about it every time.”

“Complained? Kark, princess, tasting you is all I’ve been able to think about for a month. In fact,” Boba grins wickedly, “I’d like to solve that problem right now, with your permission, of course.” His tongue flicks out to wet his lips like he’s preparing to enjoy the best meal of his life.

You can’t give him your permission fast enough.

Reaching behind his back, Boba tosses one of the decorative pillows from the couch onto the deck and slides down to kneel on it in front of you. “Why don’t you hand me another one of those,” he flashes you a smile and a wink, “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“They didn’t seem to be a problem when you were putting on a show for me earlier,” you snark back, rolling your eyes for extra effect. “I hardly got any reading done with your whole construction worker performance going on.”

Boba tosses his head back and laughs a deep belly laugh that makes you glow for being its source. Grabbing your hips, he yanks you to the edge of the couch, making you squeal. “Now I think we both know you never had any intention of studying when you planted your cute little ass on this couch.” He leans in, inching your dress up so he can brush his lips over the ticklish skin just above your knees.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Your lashes flutter shut and you dig your nails into the cushions to keep your composure as Boba begins to pepper kisses up your thighs while his hands massaged what his mouth wasn’t on. “I h-have all my stuff out here, see?”

Of course, your handsome contractor is exactly right but you’re not going to admit that.

Licking a stripe mere centimeters from where you want him most, Boba huffs a laugh into your damp skin. “All props, sweetheart. Your dress and flirty little smile gave it all away.” His hands travel to the back of your hips where he spreads them wide so you arch against him, bringing the top of your pelvic bone right to his mouth. “Though really, the fact you didn’t turn a single page the entire time you were out here would have clued me in regardless.”

Boba’s words feel like they’re coming through a wall of thick molasses, heavy and sweet as they are to your ears. All you can focus on is the heat of his breath whispering across the wetness he caused and how his lips feel ghosting against your soft flesh as he speaks. Kark, how are you supposed to think with him like this, kneeling for the very opportunity to put his mouth where you’ve dreamed it would be so many times? All that time trembling, aching, yearning for him and he was finally yours—at least for now—and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

You bunch up the material of your dress in a fist and force your hazy eyes to focus on him. “Either way, it got me what I truly wanted,” you smile affectionately, “You.”

An emotion flashes across Boba’s sun-bronzed face so quickly it feels like a secret to have seen it, something deep and tender, petal-soft and just as vulnerable. Something words couldn’t quite express and certainly not something he wanted to be seen. It made him feel so frighteningly human that you want to bury him in your chest and murmur all lovely things he makes you feel until he feels safe enough to let that emotion out of its closely guarded cage.

A second later, however, his usual cocksure expression is back in place. “Aw, you’re sweet to flatter an old man. Now how about you sit up on those knees so I can taste every inch of your pretty pussy?”

You couldn’t have refused his request even if it wasn’t the hottest thing you ever heard, not with the way you’re so agonizingly ready that you’re literally dripping with arousal. “Boba, please. Need your-ooohh!” A searing shock of pleasure ricochets up your spine as his tongue swipes through the web of slick pooled in your slit.

Your intense reaction spurs Boba on and he immediately dives into your core, jamming his face between your legs and groaning loudly as he inhales your scent. “Sweet as fucking cherry pie, baby. Shit, come here,” he growls, yanking you down so nearly your full weight is on his face. “I want you down my damn throat, you’re so delicious. Better than anything I’ve ever had.”

You wish you could open your scrunched eyes to see the expression that matches his blissed out tone, but it’s impossible with the way his tongue is flicking through folds as he sucks up every drop of your slick like he needs it to live. Heat pumps through your veins, lighting you up until you’re sure you could replace the sun. In less than thirty seconds, Boba has made you feel more beautiful, more cherished than you ever felt in your entire life.

As your knees begin to buckle from the luscious intensity of his mouth, Boba tosses your right leg over his shoulder, balancing you across his face and giving him the perfect opportunity to flatten his tongue against your clit. You have to slap a hand across your mouth to keep from screaming when he starts a pace that has you riding his face with fervent abandon, your hand dropping your dress to clutch at the back of his skull for more pressure.

Boba moans and scrapes his teeth over your clit, making you squeal and jolt at the sharp sensation. “Fucking hell, girl, you really are dirty, aren’t you? I never should have waited to get my mouth on you. Lay down for me, I wanna feel that tight cunt squeezing my fingers while you make a mess on my face.”

As much as you don’t want to part with his mouth, the temptation to feel him stretching you out on his thick fingers, stroking all the places your own can’t reach, is too great to resist. Scrambling back onto the couch, you tuck yourself into the corner to give him the maximum amount of access to your trembling body.

Boba grins up at you, his face up to his eyes shiny with your slick. “Howya feeling, sweetheart? Ready for me to make you see stars?”

In response, you just toss the fabric of your dress over your shoulder and roll your hips forward.

Boba was a man of his word, bringing you to the edge of orgasm once with mouth and hands then once more with his cock as took you from behind—you’re in actual tears with how good every single one of his movements feel. Every drag of his cock is pure pleasure, every touch of his hands delicious delight, and every kiss is incandescent bliss. You’re never going to be the same again.

“Oh, my filthy little girl,” he taunts, grabbing a handful of your tits as he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, “what would your parents think, hmm? What would they do if they knew you let an old man bend you over the table they’ll eat off of? That you’re bouncing on his dick and begging him for more on their couch?”

“Oh, fuck! Boba!” A wave of liquid arousal floods your core, make the sound of him fucking into you even wetter.

“Yeah? You like it when I talk like that, sweetheart? You like knowing that I’m going to own every part of you then send you back to them with a smile on my face and your cum leaking down my cock?”

Every single one of his sex-stained words sear into your skin, going straight to your throbbing clit. Every beat of your pounding heart brings you closer and closer to the bright brink of orgasm, every roll of his hips thrusting his length into that perfect spot inside you. Fuck he’s going to make me come if he keeps… fuck!

“Kark, baby, I can feel you squeezing me with that perfect tight cunt. Shit, you’re so-”

You can’t take it anymore. Falling forward onto his heaving chest, you dig your nails into the thick muscle there and start grinding your aching clit against him like some feral animal chasing their heat.

Faster, harder, faster, fuck! Just like that, juuuust like that and you’ll feel that perfect fucking release, just a little more and…

Boba stills his bucking hips and halts your rocking.

You howl, clawing at his unmoving body. “No, please!” you sob, “I’m so close, please don’t stop now!”

Boba shushes you with the press of his mouth. “Shh, you’ll get what you want, baby, I promise you. But if I'm gonna be the first man to make you come, I’m gonna make it much more memorable than that was going to be.”

The thought of anything more than the building pleasure thrashing in core was unimaginable. How on earth could it be better than him balls deep inside you hitting your g-spot like it’s what he was made for? Never in your wildest dreams had you felt this good, even when you had hours alone to tease yourself before riding out the wave of your orgasm. If there was anything greater than this pleasure you’re not sure you would survive it—not with your mind intact, anyways.

Sliding his hands under your slicked thighs, Boba swings his legs off the couch and stands with a huff, keeping himself sheathed inside you. You grind into the fabric of his shirt until gives your ass a firm swat and you a stern warning to behave, which you’re too desperate to test. He walks the pair of you over to the large, oak table and plops you on top of it. The rich grain is supple and smooth on your bare skin, and Boba eases your back flat against it as he kisses and gropes across your body.

“Alright, princess,” he pulls away slightly to rest his damp forehead on yours, “I need you to do something for me, okay?”

Brushing your hands down his neck and shoulders, you’d promise him anything he asked. “O-okay, Boba.”

He peppers a few kisses on your tear-stained cheeks before continuing, letting his hips rut into you at an agonizingly slow pace. “When I tell you to, I want you to release all your muscles and completely let go. Don’t hold anything in, alright, babygirl?”

You’re not sure where he’s leading you but you have complete faith in the fact that it’s going to be mind blowing. You give him your affirmation and he presses a small kiss on your lips.

“Good. Now start playing with those perfect fucking tits, give me a good show.”

You’re in such a hurry to comply that you get frustrated by the straps of your dress and bra, to which Boba chuckles and makes quick work of them, dragging the material down until your chest was bared for his mouth to claim. He curses when you press the soft flesh of your breasts together, moaning when your fingers brush over your pert nipples. For a minute he just watches you revel in the pleasure of your own hands, fucking yourself shallowly on him as you pluck and caress the sensitive skin beneath your fingers.

Boba is a man entranced, his dark eyes glassy with want. Under his reverential gaze, you feel so desired, so utterly divine, like you’re his own personal goddess—he stares down at you as your most pious devotee who longs for nothing more than to feel the blessing of your body and the joy of your bliss.

“Boba…” you whisper duskily. He leans into your outstretched hand and you pull him into your arms with a crushing kiss.

As if he can read exactly what you need, he hikes your leg over his hip and begins a pace of snapping thrusts that has your entire body bouncing with their bruising force. “Pretty baby, precious girl, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he pants into your neck, pressing his lips there to taste the salt of your skin, “Been dying to take care of you like this, sweetheart. Watching you work so hard, leaving early and coming back late… you’re such a good little girl, aren’t you?”

With the way he’s hitting every single sweet spot that makes you feel like a woman, all you can manage is a breathy affirmative and a few warbling words. “Y-yes, Boba, w-wanted you s-so bad. Thought-thought about you every n-night. Ohhhh fuck!”

Boba lifts your hips and guides your legs to lock around him, giving him a mind-shattering angle as he drives into your wet heat. After swallowing down your cries of pleasure with a searing kiss, he wraps his large hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he continues.

“So loud, aren’t you, princess? No, I like that, I like hearing how good I make you feel, like knowing I’m the only one who has you making these sweet fucking sounds.” Leaning back, he trails his free hand up your calf, letting it follow the curve of your thigh and giving your ass a smack that makes your eyes roll back. “Because I’m the only one who makes you feel like this, the only one who can make this perfect pussy soak and come. You just needed a real man to give you what you needed, huh, sweetheart? Come on, answer me and I’ll make you scream.”

Every nerve in your body is lighting up, every neuron in your brain firing with blinding pleasure. The voice that claws its way from your throat is wrecked and ragged, gasping and begging for more, more, more. The heat and pressure building in your core is volcanic, and you absolutely need it to burn you alive. Only then could you shed the weight of everything that came before and become the beautiful thing Boba is crafting with every sinful word and scalding caress.

“That’s it, just like that, pretty baby,” Boba grunts in praise when you start chasing his thrusts with your own. “Take what you need, what you deserve. Use my cock… I’m all yours, all fucking yours, princess.”

You can’t see him behind your scrunched eyelids, but you can hear the sincerity laced through his words like a shining vein of shimmering gold. The images of him wrapping his arm around you at campfire, settling you into your chair on a date come flashing back, play across your mind with such visceral clarity you could almost reach out and touch them. There was so much warmth to this man, so much untapped softness and care underneath his rough-hewn exterior that you want so karking bad you can taste it hot on your tongue. You want him loving you, fucking you, caring for you every single day from now until forever. Most urgently, however, you want him to mark your very soul with his in an orgasm so intense you leave your body.

“B-boba, Boba, please! I’m so close, I-I want you so bad! Please!” you beg between his fingers over your mouth as your hands paw at his sweat-slicked skin.

“I got you, babygirl, I got you. Come here.” Boba crushes his mouth against yours, licking your taste onto his tongue with a moan. When he finally breaks your kiss, his cheeks are flushed with carnal color and his eyes are glazed with devoted fervor. “Remember what I said before, sweetheart? About letting go, releasing all your muscles?”

You bob your head, biting into your lip to keep your focus on his face.

“Good. I’m going to count down from ten then I want you to do just that, okay? Can you do that for me? Let me hear you say you understand.”

As if you wouldn’t kiss the very ground he walks on with how good he’s making you feel. “I-I understand.”

He beams at you, a diamond drop of sweat rolling down his brow. “That’s my good girl. Now stuff your dress in your mouth because I’m going to make you scream loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.”

Burning ecstasy explodes inside you, snapping your muscles taunt and clamping down on the thick length rocking into you. How can you possibly feel this good, this fucking amazing and you’re not even coming yet? You don’t even remember where you are at this point, only that Boba’s on top of you and his dick’s inside you.

Gagged and bleary-eyed with tears, you arch into his touch when his calloused fingertips find your pulsing clit.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” Boba’s fingers slide back and forth across your sopping folds with delicious speed, the pressure of his hand singing the glorious feeling into your bones.

“Seven. Six. Five.” His angle changes just slightly so his thrusts aim up towards your belly. Tears run down your temples into your hair and you know you have to be screaming around your spit-soaked dress.

“Four… three…”

Stars begin to explode in cataclysmic bursts of light as everything in your body tightens into a ball of pure energy. If you could think beyond the primal sensation you would worry that you might literally die with how hard your heart is thundering in your chest.

Boba presses a hand on your lower tummy and everything snaps into stark relief: you can feel every cell in your body, every atom of being as all the light inside you floods to core.

“Two…” His voice is sabled sin, luscious smoke dripping onto your burning skin in hot, fat drops. “One. Let go, baby, let go of everything.”

His thrusts, his fingers, his hand pressing into you, everything melts into one caldecent elixir that pours directly into your deepest parts and washes you down to your most tender parts. Then, just when you thought you couldn’t feel anything more, the final dam inside you breaks. Liquid heat washes through you, roaring through your body with all the force of every desire you’ve ever had being met in one singular, perfect moment.

The waves crashing into you feel so real that it feels like you're soaking through your skin into a puddle of your own arousal.

“Oh, fuuuuck, princess, that’s it…” Boba’s voice strains through clenched teeth and torrid control, the last shreds clinging just barely to his skin. “Fuck yes, you’re f-fucking soaking me, I can’t-shit-I c-can’t… baby, princess, beautiful girl…”

Your whole world is so soft and warm and full of him that you can’t think a mortal thought, but you know that you have to see the look on his face as he pants and karking whines as his thrusts dissolve into sloppy rutting. With the last of your remaining strength, you peel your wet lashes apart as you shakily tilt your head up. Everything is blurry and rose-hued, and… wet? You try to blink away the clouds in your vision but the bright sheen coating everything below your waist doesn’t disappear.

Seeing your confusion, Boba breaks out into a devilish grin that turns up his flushed cheeks. “See all this, s-sweetheart? See how much a real man c-can make you come?” he puffs out, breaking your gaze to drop his chin to chest. His brows knit together in concentration as if he’s hanging on the very last sliver of restraint.

You can only watch in downey bliss as he scrapes his hand down your belly to swipe his fingers through the wet rivulets trailing down your thighs, transfixed as he brings them dripping to his swollen lips. When the first finger disappears into his mouth, his eyes roll back and his dick throbs inside your ruined pussy. Realization slams into you watching him lap your juice from his palm like sweet nectar, his arms and shirt damply glinting in the sunlight.

I did that, I made him… holy fucking shit did I-

“Fucking hell, babygirl, I want you to squirt all over me every single kriffing day until I die,” Boba hisses, his wrecked rasp one second away from cracking. “Look like a fucking queen, my queen, lying there s-soaked and gorgeous- aaaahh!”

The revelation that you came so hard on his thick, perfect cock that you blacked out a little and squirted to the point Boba was completely soaked, all on your parents’ dining table makes you sob in pleasure and bare down on him with another blinding orgasm. Your fingernails scrape across the wood grain as you flail mindlessly, your back arching up as your head slams back against the table. This climax isn’t as powerful as the first but it still slings you out into the stars, spinning and tumbling through an aurora of colors and light.

The sudden emptiness of your cunt is replaced by hot ribbons slicing across your belly, pulling you out of the stars and back into your body. You’ve never had anyone come on you before—you had always insisted on a condom with your ex—and it feels impossibly erotic, almost degrading but in the best possible way; not like Boba didn’t care enough about you not to do it but that he was so out of his usually controlled mind with pleasure that he couldn’t help it. Pleasure that you brought him, pleasure he found in you.

You’re reaching for him, desperate to feel his skin, to know that all of this was real, that he wasn’t going to fade away into a dream. Boba leans forward catching himself on the edge of the table while he sucks in breath after shaky breath. He looks so beautiful fucked-out and soft, his usual sharp edges sanded down into a smooth sea glass that reveals a glimpse of his soul.

Eventually he stills and peeks up at you, watching you with adoring brown eyes. He whispers your name, warm and gentle, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He straightens up and reaches back to pull his t-shirt over his head to mop up your stomach and the liquid pooled between your thighs. His shoulders work in glorious exertion, and you watch in awe at the way his skin ripples with his silent strength.

Finished, he tucks the garment under his arm and eases your dress from your mouth and rearranges it back over your body, murmuring to wait right there. As if you would want to be anywhere other than here with him.

Boba isn’t gone for long, reappearing at your side with a flannel and a water bottle. He’s wearing a white tank top that fits snugly over his broad chest in such a way that it makes you consider seducing him for another around—if you only had the energy to do so. He coos over you, softly instructing you to lift your arms so he can remove your ruined dress. You happily float along, allowing him to undress you and curl you against his chest on the couch with his flannel laid over you for comfort. It smells of him, rich and warm, and he presses the water bottle to your lips. After several greedy gulps, you pull back and tuck your face into his neck, humming with satisfaction.

The two of you doze for a lazy hour, wrapped up in each other while the afternoon breeze pleasantly tinkles the windchimes on the deck.

Eventually, though, you have to break to clean and reclothe yourself. When you amble back outside, Boba has finished wiping down the table with cleaner and a rag from his truck.

“There she is,” he grins, “how’s my pretty princess feeling?”

“Amazing… a little wobbly,” you add truthfully. You’re not sure if your bones will ever fully resolidify after this. Boba opens his arm and you press yourself against him, relishing his touch while you still have it. You don’t want to think about him leaving. “What about you?”

It’s like he can sense your unease and he pulls you closer, placing a kiss into your hair. “Never been better, you were… kriff, you were amazing, baby. Filthy, perfect, wet… and soft, so so soft,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, “like you were made just for me.”

He leans in to kiss you but stops when he sees the sullen look on your face. Cocking a brow, he lifts up your chin on two fingers. “What’s that look for?”

You can’t look at him. This is the part where he says goodbye and things go back to normal, where you part ways and pretend like this never happened. He’d be back day after day to finish the backyard, a sore reminder of what you desperately want but will never have. Why couldn’t you just let this be a fun fuck and let it go? Why did your heart have to ache for his?

“I-” you swallow the warble in your voice. “I, um… I don’t want to hold you up if you have another job or something after this.” You’re a big girl, you don’t need him to stay and prolong the inevitable—better to rip it off quick like a band-aid. You toss your head towards the table. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

Boba studies you silently, a frown shadowing his handsome features. Every second that passes with you in his arms has your resolve weakening more and more; too much longer and you’ll shatter against his chest.

“I don’t have anything after this…” He pauses, mulling over his words for a tense moment before continuing. “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you? Please, sweetheart, talk to me, if there’s anything I can do to-”

“No!” You break free from his embrace, hot tears of frustration beading behind your eyes. The last thing you want to do is hurt him but the longer he stays the more it’s going to tear you apart later. Boba steps back, giving you space and your heart twinges in your chest. “You’ve done nothing wrong, really. It’s just…”

Blowing out a quivering sigh, you force yourself to look him in the eye—he at least deserves that. “It’s just that I don’t like this part, especially with how amazing and wonderful you were. You are. I think it’s just better if we don’t draw this out.” Once again, your eyes drop with the weight of the fast-approaching future.

The following silence is almost unbearably thick, the air congealing to a sodden, soupy haze in your lungs. How could this hurt this much already?

Boba rubs his fingers over his lips thoughtfully, his tan forehead creasing. “Princess… it’s better if we don’t draw ‘what’ out?”

Maker, he is really going to make you say it. No, it wasn’t enough to have made you come so hard you literally soaked the both of you, you have to admit you’re falling for a man twice your age that you’ve known for a month, too. It would be easier to make yourself hate him for that but you can’t bring yourself to confess and do that in the same breath.

Folding your arms over your chest, you force your focus back on his face. “Boba, I… I know this was just for fun and I’m sorry for making this weird but it would be easier for me if we didn’t pretend this isn’t a goodbye. Like I feel nothing for you. Like you won’t show up here tomorrow like you didn’t fuck me right into my soul in my parents’ backyard.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers curling into tight fists. “Please, just go.”

You can hear Boba shift and you crack open an eye to see him looking at you with longing deep enough to drown in. Finally, he says your name in a voice streaked with a vulnerable emotion you’d never seen him display. “Babygirl, I want you to listen to me, okay? I don’t know how that boy treated you before, but this was never a one time thing to me. I’m far too old to lay down with a woman I don’t intend on having by my side the next day, and all the days after that.”

Hope seizes your chest as his words settle into you.

Slowly he moves in front of you, taking your hands in his and gently rubbing them loose like he did before. “Now I’m no poet, sweetheart, I’m just a simple man making his way through life. I can’t make this sound as beautiful as you deserve, but I need you to know that I would never ever do anything to hurt you. I know it’s only been a month but kark, baby, I want you. I want to wake up to you in the mornings and hear your voice when I call you at lunch. I want to bring you tea while you study and make sure you don’t work yourself too hard. Most of all, though, my beautiful girl, I want you to be mine… because I’m already yours.”

The entire world shifts beneath your feet and you collapse into Boba’s waiting arms. When you bury your face into his shoulder, you pinch your thigh to make sure this was all still real. “D-do you,” your voice shakes, your joy threatening to overwhelm you, “do you really mean it?”

He kisses the top of your head and gingerly tilts your face up, caressing the swell of your cheek. “I’ve never been more serious, princess,” he smiles tenderly, “I want to make you mine. If you’ll have me, of course.”

You can’t help the choked laugh that burst from your chest. Pulling him closer, you meet his lips and throw everything you want to say into your kiss, sealing your sentiment into him with the press of your mouth. As much as you want to get lost in his sweet embrace, though, you break to give him an actual answer. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” you giggle breathlessly into him between more kisses. “In fact, I want you to make me yours over and over and over…”

But before you can get too cheeky, he swats your ass with a smirk. “Dirty girl, aren’t you? I’m old enough to be your father, you know.”

“Ah, well, the younger ones never did it for me anyways. I’ve always wanted a man with some… experience in getting me wet.” You bite your lip playfully and wiggle your brows at him. Now that the oppressive cloud of doubt has lifted from your mind, you feel positively giddy.

Boba smacks your ass again making you squeal in surprised delight. “Now I want you to go upstairs, pick up that cute little dress you ruined, and bring it to me.”

Your breath catches at his dark, delicious tone and you blink up at him, confused—and definitely turned on. “W-Why?”

Boba spins you around to face the house then wraps an arm around your middle to pull you back against his rising chest. “Because, princess,” he murmurs sinfully into your ear, nipping at the tender spot behind it, “I want something to remember you by tonight. Wanna smell that sweet little cunt while I tug on my cock and think about you coming in my mouth. And on my cock. And all over me.”

His salacious request goes straight to your still-swollen clit and you scurry to your room before you can lose your nerve. When you return, you find him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and expression smug at your obedience. Where your desire to sass him might have been at such pompousness, however, is filled with warm bashfulness as you shuffle over to him. He stretches out the hand that had, until very recently, buried between your legs. Biting your lip, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him as your cheeks burn with aroused embarrassment.

“Ah ah ah, let me see those pretty eyes, sweetheart,” he tuts. “Let me see that sweet look on your face when you give me the dress I made you squirt all over.”

Heat scalds through you, your heart pumping hot desire into your veins as you drag your eyes to meet his dark ones. Boba takes the dress almost reverently from your hand then brings it up to face and inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering shut. He groans into the material, desire scraping the sound raw.

Fuck how are supposed to keep your hands off him long enough to get anything done ever again?

Before you have time to jump his bones, however, Boba’s phone rings loudly, making you jump. He huffs in annoyance and unhooks his phone from his toolbelt. “Sorry, princess, gotta take this.”

He answers the call, but opens up his arm so you can lean against him. As he talks, his fingers trail up and down your hip, tracing absent-minded patterns that make you glow with affection. The way his body responds to yours, his subconscious little touches, they all confirm his declaration—you’re so happy you might float away if not for his hold on you. All your problems seem far away at the moment and you’re content to leave it that way, if just for now.

When Boba hangs up, he pulls you close to plant a kiss on your forehead. “That was another client of mine,” he explains with a sigh.

You pout. “So you have to go?”

“Unfortunately.” Kissing you again, he swipes his thumbs over your cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, you know I’d much rather be with you. my pretty princess. Can I call you tonight?”

“Of course,” you smile. You enter your number into his phone and send yourself a text. “There. Now you’ll know it’s me.”

Looking down at the collection of suggestive emojis and hearts following your name, Boba lets out a hardy laugh. “As if I could ever forget you, sweetheart.” When he finally extricates himself from your feeble attempt to lock him in your arms, he tucks your dress into his belt with a wink. “For safekeeping,” he assures you.

Once he’s pulled away in his truck, you realize he left his flannel on the couch. Pulling it around your shoulders, you decide that if Boba could still put in an honest day’s work after fucking you senseless, then you could at least get some actual studying in. After all, your night is already booked.

#look y'all i wrote a fic about boba fett without calling him daddy for once 🙈#strongly implied though no worries #zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #contractor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #an honest day's work fic

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auteurdelabre · 3 months

Text

A Little Sun Part 2 Dieter!Bravo x f!Reader

Summary: You're heading into your second trimester and Ireland with your annoying boss and surrogate financier Dieter Bravo.

words: 10.1k

warnings: Allusions to female masturbation, erections, pregnancy (duh)

a/n: Okay so I just realized I hit 500 followers the other day (how?!) and I wanted to celebrate with the first part of the A Little Sun: Second Semester so I put it into two parts so you wouldn't have to keep waitin' for the whole thing. This story is such a treat to write and I hope you find it funny and sexy and all that good stuff.

part 1 here

Second Trimester - PART 1

Ten weeks

Cravings

bananas

pizza

pretzels

independence from boss who will not stop sending insane baby related texts at all hours of the day

Missing

personal space

sushi

not barfing

Baby is size of apricot

------

Dieter Bravo Google Search ten weeks

///

"Ready for your walk?"

"I'm not a dog, Dieter. I don't need to go for walkies."

The two of you sit across from one another at Dieters kitchen table. A bowl of strawberries sits between you along with a green smoothie at your elbow. You've been trying to get Dieter focused for the last half hour but all he does is talk about the baby.

"C'mon baby mama," Dieter says with an indulgent grin. "Let's take you for a spin."

"I told you not to call me that," you say motioning to the laptop between you. "And we don't have time for a walk. We're supposed to be going over your packing list."

"Plenty of time for that later," Dieter insists, grabbing your hand and dragging you to a stand. "Also you didn't finish your smoothie."

"It tastes like paste."

"Full of antioxidants," Dieter tells you with that arrogant look he sometimes gets when he's feeling cocky. "Good for prenatal development."

You finish the smoothie complaining the whole time. Then you grumble behind him as you slip on your shoes and the two of you walk out into his secluded Calabasas neighborhood.

Dieter loves daily walks with you. And he knows you'd never admit it, but you like them too. He sees the tension release from you with every step. You had forced yourself to go on daily walks at the start of everything, trying to stay active. Dieter insisted on joining you walking around his neighborhood and you’d allowed it. The good thing about his neighborhood is that it’s home to plenty of celebrities which means intense security and there’s no paparazzi here, no one to watch you.

Dieter looks forward to the walks because on them you seem more at ease, more laid back. In the office or his house you're wound up. He can see that you're uncomfortable. He can also see that you're tits have gotten bigger. They swell under your t-shirt, causing him to stiffen at times. He has to cross his legs just to hide it when you walk by some days.

"I should have demanded more than $300 grand," you grumble as you bake in the sun during one particularly bloated day. "I don't understand anyone who does this for free."

"Love," Dieter tells you smiling serenely. He's always been a romantic at heart. You know this and while you couldn’t be more opposite to him in that regard, there is a sweetness in believing in true love overcoming all obstacles.

"Well, I-" you stop sharply, eyes blowing wide. Immediately Dieter is in fizzing with anxiety. His hand flies to your stomach and you slap it away.

"What is it?"

You can only shake your head and take off for the trees lining the sidewalk. Dieter rushes after you just in time to hold back your hair as you puke lime green all over the bushes.

"Morning sickness?"

"That fucking smoothie, Dieter!"

///

People who say they feel like fertile goddesses during pregnancy are fucking liars.

All you have to show two and a half months in is a patch of acne along your jaw and heartburn that brings you to your knees. Your breasts ache intermittently and you feel bloated all the time. Your clothes still fit but you're not comfortable in them like you were before.

And Dieter is on your last fucking nerve. You don’t know how you’re going to handle staying with him in Ireland at this rate. He continues to hound you about updating the app. He’s constantly checking in to see how you’re feeling. You know he’s anxious because you’re not at the three month mark, the ‘safety’ line. But him hovering over you like a helicopter isn’t going to help, if anything it’s stressing you out.

You hit your limit when one day over discussions of his upcoming charity fundraiser he stopped the conversation to ask you about your cervical mucus. You immediately slapped your laptop shut and went home for the rest of the day. It took him texting you for five hours straight apologizing for him to understand the meaning of professional boundaries.

At least you thought he did.

But that seems to have gone out the window because as you drag yourself from the toilet for the third time that morning of your day off there’s a knocking on your front door. You’re only a fraction surprised that it’s your boss looking at your stomach, hoping you’ve popped (you haven’t) holding a bag as his taxi drives off.

"You can't keep showing up at my house," you tell him with a hiss. "My mom could be home."

"Is she?"

"No, but-"

"Good," Dieter says shouldering his way into your house. He's carrying a bag from home.

"I read something in the app today. Did you know that at eighteen weeks the baby can hear?"

"Okay?"

"So we should start speaking very kindly to one another and it should be listening to music to stimulate brain development."

Sometimes you wish you'd never shown him that fucking app.

"Fine Dieter. I'll be sure to-"

"So I brought you this," Dieter says with a smile. “So you can get used to it.”

He brings out a bright yellow walkman with earphones from the bag. You take them, holding them like ancient relics before raising a brow at him.

"Couldn't spring for wireless?"

"I don't trust new tech, it fucks with brainwaves, everyone knows that," Dieter says as if it were obvious. "This is mine from when I was a kid. Plus I made the baby a mix tape."

He digs around in the bag before brandishing a cassette with the felt tipped title: Bravo Baby Mix

You hold in an amused smile. This whole thing is asinine but there's something incredibly sweet about Dieters bright eyes as he pops the cassette into the player.

"Promise you'll play it to him every night."

"I promise."

Dieter grins, plugging the headphones in and sliding the headphones over your still normal looking tummy. You feel like a fucking idiot standing in your hallway with headphones stretched over your stomach and Dieter bent against your naval to make sure the sound is working, but you indulge him nonetheless.

Three hundred thousand dollars.

He hits play and you can hear the gentle rhythm of whatever music he chose bleeding out of the earphones. You roll your eyes as he watches your bellybutton, as if he thinks the baby’s going to starting doing the Dougie in the womb. When you sigh exasperatedly for the fifth time in under a minute Dieter seems to get the message.

"I should head out," Dieter says tapping his phone as he straightens. "Car should be here in-"

The sound of a familiar old Chevy breaks your attention and your eyes widen. You tear the headphones from around your middle and grip him by the shoulder of his oversized, neon pink sweater.

"Shit my mom is home.”

"I should say hi," Dieter suggests with a shrug. "Sign an autograph-"

"Dieter she can't stand you," you say tugging him down the hallway to your bedroom. "And she's gonna be kinda confused when she catches me here alone with my boss who decided to swing by with an ancient walkman and headphones."

You practically shove him into your bedroom slamming the door behind you. You shove the walkman under your pillow, anxiously glancing out the window to see your Mom heading inside.

You creep towards your bedroom door listening for your mother as Dieter takes the opportunity to look around your room.

You don't share a lot with him; he knows just a handful of personal details. Your friend Becky and the surrogacy, your mother's delicious baking, but there are so few bits of yourself in the stories you share, crumbs of you. It makes him crave knowledge of you.

Your bedroom is bits of your personality all over. The pale blue of your walls, the science fair ribbons from when you were a kid, the framed photos of a young you atop a chestnut mare. He sees the biology textbooks on your desk on the far wall and above it he sees a familiar painting.

"You kept it," Dieter says in a soft voice, looking at the wall. "Your birthday painting."

"Yeah," you nod feeling strangely vulnerable at him seeing this part of you. "It's uh ... I really liked it."

"I wasn't sure," Dieter says smiling gently as he looks at it.

You hear the sound of your mom entering the house calling your name and you wince.

"I'm just in my room mom," your call back through the closed door. "Just getting some work done. I’ll be out soon to start on dinner."

Motion over Dieter’s shoulder outside the window draws your attention. You lower your voice, shoving him to your bedroom window.

"Okay well, show and tell is over," you tell him. "I see your car is here."

Dieter drags his eyes from the painting to spin and look at the town car outside the window, then to your closed door. He lowers his voice to a confused hiss.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get to it?"

"Climb out the window."

He's about to say something more when your doorknob suddenly twists.

"Honey I saw this shirt and I thought you'd like it-"

Your mother's voice comes through the door. You give a yelp and throw yourself against the door and throwing a desperate look at Dieter over your shoulder. He gets the message, throwing himself into your closet and closing the door just as your mom shoves yours open.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just moving some furniture around,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t notice. “Wanted to feng shui it up here a little bit.”

Your mom has a shirt over her forearm, but she’s staring at you with a quizzical look on her face.

"Honey are you okay?" She asks pressing a hand to your forehead. "Is it still that stomach bug?"

“Must be,” you say swallowing thickly.

She mutters something about making you soup and pads off. You close the door quickly and urge Dieter out the window.

You watch him take off across the lawn in a terrified frenzy and have to swallow a laugh.

///

[4:22 pm] D: 10 week ultrasound booked for tomorrow @ 9:45 am

[4:25 pm]Yeah I know. I put it in the app.

[4:25 pm] D: u want me to pick u up on the way or meet there?

[4:34 pm] D: ???

[4:41 pm] HELLO

[4:44 pm] Dieter I’m working! You’re supposed to be working too!! Filming that watch commercial remember? The thing we’ve been talking about all week?

[4:44 pm] D: Filming ended. Car driving me home.

[4:46 pm]Great. And as for tomorrow I don't think it’s necessary for you to come. I'll upload the photos to the app when it's done.

[4:46 pm] D: I wanna see my baby!!!!!

[4:47 pm] Fine. Pick me up at 9. AROUND THE BLOCK. Do NOT park at my house.

[4:47 pm] k

[4:48 pm] D: u want me to bring anything tomorrow morning? Having cravings?

[4:50 pm] Stop babying me. Save it for your actual baby.

…

[11:48pm] A chocolate milkshake might be nice. Thank you.

///

"I don't like hospitals," you tell him nervously as you walk up the steps to the clinic, chocolate milkshake in hand. Dieter was insistent on getting this done before Ireland even though you told him it was probably unnecessary. You’ve been going for your regular checkups, nothing is amiss, everything seems to be progressing nicely.

"Why?"

Dieter frowns, unhappy with how you're turning his good mood about the ultrasound into a bad one.

"My dad died in one," you say distractedly without thinking. You're staring down the corridor, mind going a million miles an hour as doctors and nurses file past you. The creeping sensation of dread is flooding your veins, making you feel foggy. Dieter is immediately apologetic, his hand going to your elbow.

"I'm so sorry, wh-"

"It doesn't matter," you snap irritably pulling away from him. "Let's just get this over with."

This hospital is private, elite, meant for people with real money. No paparazzi, no kids desperate to make a few bucks with grainy footage of Dieter Bravo with his PA. It’s face masks the second you enter to avoid germs, it’s warmed hand towels and sweet smelling, oversized rooms to wait in.

You enter into a particularly large room to see a technician named Judy who smiles at you both, encouraging you to lie on the bed beside the large ultrasound machine. You look at it warily before lowering yourself onto the crinkling plastic sheet, eyes stuck on the ceiling. You want to be anywhere but here.

Judy checks to see you are who you say you are before she turns on the machine. She seems to notice your apprehension because she shoots Dieter a small, comforting smile. If she recognizes him from the movies she doesn’t say anything and you’re both thankful for that.

"Ready to check on your little one Mommy and Daddy?" She says with a smile to you both.

"Father and surrogate," you correctly her quickly. "Is it okay if I just listen to music for this since, ya know…?"

You make a motion between Dieter and your stomach. If Judy's surprised she's a consummate professional because you can't tell. She simply nods and encourages Dieter to take a seat wherever.

When she pulls up your t-shirt Dieter is shocked at how eager he is to see this part of you. He's never seen you in anything other than your work clothes and that skimpy dress once. Seeing the soft curve of your lower belly makes you seem somehow more human, less intimidating.

Because he does find you intimidating, not only your intellect but the way you just command any room you walk into. So confident, so self assured. He's been intimidated by you since your first day when you walked into his bedroom back in LA and announced that he had a meeting scheduled that morning.

"Dunno who you are but you don't work for me," Dieter had slurred, rolling out of his bed still occupied with two models. Irritation flared in him at being woken during a binge, his ire turned on the serious-looking woman standing in the doorway, holding a tablet.

"I'm a new hire."

"Nah," Dieter shook his head, looking you over with derision. "My assistants are all hot."

"How amazing for them," you had replied without hesitation, no hurt showing on your face.

He'd been high on something, making it hard for him to speak further and without hesitation you had dragged him by the arm into the shower, fully dressed and turned on the coldest water. You shut the door as he howled curses at you.

When sufficient time had passed you let him out, throwing a towel at him and letting him know he had five minutes to get dressed for his meeting.

As you stalked off Dieter had been both aroused and intimidated but never let you know about either.

It strikes him as terribly amusing that the same woman who threw him into a shower that day is the woman lying next to him, carrying his child. He sees the pinched expression on your face and he fights the urge to hold your hand.

"Take a seat," Judy says to Dieter, motioning to the chair next to the bed you lay on.

"I'll stand if that's okay," Dieter says, eyes eagerly turned on the monitor. He's too excited to sit down.

"Of course."

Dieter is pressed against the hospital bed, excited but also nervous. You see his handsome face poised in an anxious smile, eyes widening as Judy flicks on the humming machine. You turn on your playlist, closing your eyes until their voices are nothing but murmurs.

You feel the cool gel on your belly and hiss before relaxing again.

Dieter watches the wand press against your soft stomach watches your skin twitch against the sensation and feels his mouth go dry. After a few moments of running the wand over your lower belly Judy pauses.

"There he is," Judy says pointing to a dot on the screen. Dieter feels his eyes go wide.

"It's a he?"

"Far too early to tell," she smiles over at Dieter. "I just always call them he to be safe."

Dieter peers closer at the monitor, thankful he brought his glasses but then he frowns, deep creases running between his eyebrows.

It doesn't look like a baby. It looks like a piece of shrimp floating around with a bunch of other blurry shit. Dieters face contorts into that of extreme disgust and he’s thankful your eyes are closed.

"What the fuck is that?"

"That's the yolk sac," Judy says smirking at his reaction. She points to another thing on the monitor. "That's the umbilical cord."

"And that over there?"

"The head."

Dieter watches the small thing onscreen flutter and now he can see the small curvature, the start of a human. It settles over him and when he finally sees it, the image of his child it takes his breath away.

You both made a human.

"Look," he tells you, urging you to look at the image, pushing at your shoulder. He wants to share this with you. You frown, shaking your head. He pulls at your headphones and you growl up at him.

“What?”

"You have to look! It's amazing."

"This is your baby, not mine," you tell him with a sigh, replacing the headphones, still turned away from the screen and closing your eyes. Dieter is too overjoyed by seeing his child that he isn't put off by your mood. He asks Judy to print the photo of his tiny shrimp offspring, placing it in his wallet with a huge smile.

My kid.

///

10 weeks personal diary entry [D.Bravo]:

This is my baby. My actual baby growing. He’s gonna be so fucking smart look at the size of that skull. Imagine the size of that brain. He must take after his mama (she went to Stanford!) I can’t wait until he’s here. I’m gonna teach this little baby everything my dad didn’t teach me. How to ride a bike and paint their nails, how to swim. Gonna take them all over the world while I work.

I’m gonna make this baby so fucking happy.

We're gonna be so fucking happy.

///

[4:22 pm] Did you remember your passport?

[4:22 pm] D: yeah. Did u remember ur prenatal vitamins?

[4:22 pm] Don't worry about me, worry about yourself. Last time we traveled you didn't pack any pants.

[4:22 pm] I can't help worrying about u. Ur carrying my baby 🍼

[4:23 pm] I can always buy more pants in Ireland.

There's something sweet in his sincerity but also something incredibly annoying. He's treating you like an invalid and it irritates the shit out of you.

You finish packing for the flight leaving tomorrow and run yourself a bubble bath. You smile at the word "bubble" on the bottle and soon the scent of vanilla wafts through the room.

You disrobe, thankful for the peace and quiet. You glance at yourself in the mirror, thinking that if you squint maybe you see a bit of a bump. But then again that might just be the pasta you had for dinner.

You slip beneath the water, sighing happily. It's not long before your fingers drift under the water, grazing between your legs and you arch back, groaning softly.

You're so horny.

The hormones are making it impossible not to be. You'd noticed it at the tail end of last week. Waking up slick between your legs. Nipples sensitive and tightening. You'd just thought it was excitement at getting to travel abroad.

But no, this is relentless and getting worse. And the flight over to Ireland makes it painfully obvious that it isn't going away anytime soon.

///

Normally you're relegated to the back of the plane with the rest of Dieters staff and the other passengers when traveling with the megastar. Today however Dieter has you sitting right next to him in first class. Two large seats that recline all the way back in a private little zone.

"No champagne because of... The Bubbles," he says meaningfully to you when the flight attendant comes over to offer you both a drink before the plane takes off. You roll your eyes.

"Diet coke pl-."

"She'll have the strawberry-pineapple fruit smoothie," Dieter says for you, thanking the woman who nods before murmuring; "I loved you in Cliff Beasts."

You give Dieter a furious look, shoving your purse under your chair. You watch the airline worker bouncing off, undoubtedly delighted at serving a Hollywood celebrity.

“I want my Diet Coke, Dieter.”

"It's full of chemicals," he frowns. "And my... Bubbles doesn't need that."

The stewardess returns handing Dieter his whisky and you a pink beverage with a slice of pineapple speared on the glass.

"You can enjoy the drink," you say when she's out of earshot. "I'm going to sleep."

First class seats have so much leg room and their cushions are so comfortable. It's not long before you're drifting off to dreamland.

At first the dream is calm. You're overlooking a beautiful ocean, your hair blowing in the breeze. It's peaceful and lovely. And then suddenly Dieter is there beside you his big brown eyes gazing at you. Your dream self smiles widely at his approach, holding your arms open to him. He sweeps you up into his grip, his mouth on yours. It's like something out of a bad romance novel.

His soft lips move to your jaw as he whispers something you can't hear. And then suddenly the dream shifts and you're naked in bed under him writhing. He's got his mouth on yours and his back flexing as he drives into you.

But before the dream version of you can really enjoy it, you're back overlooking the ocean, but in your arms is a small baby. You feel such love go through you, only for it to turn to terror when an ocean wave from out of nowhere washes over you, sweeping the child from your embrace.

---

Dieter is watching the latest Julia Roberts movie on the screen in front of him when he first notices your squirming. At first he’s amused because you remind him of a childhood dog with your whimpering and twitching as you sleep.

Without warning you've tilted your head against his shoulder.

He smiles, not minding it one bit. He tilts his nose against the crown of your head and inhaling. Coconut and vanilla. You smell like his favorite cookie.

He watches you sleep on him, mouth pursed. Dieter looks down into your face and finds himself unable to stop himself from dragging his thumb along your lower lip. It's so soft.

In response to his touch he watches your mouth part, giving a breathy moan only he can hear. This is accompanied by your saddling brows and the softest whimper against his neck.

You're having a sex dream.

Immediately he's hard. He pulls his jacket over his lap, trying not to draw attention to himself. He keeps watching you, feeling as the head of his cock begins to weep when you shiver, whimpering again and rubbing your thighs together.

"Jesus," he groans.

Before he can really enjoy the sight of this though, your sleeping face grows cloudy. You tilt back from him into your chair, teeth bared.

Dinner is delivered as you continue dreaming, your body giving little spasms. Dieter wonders if he should wake a pregnant woman when you begin to twitch in earnest.

"No!" You murmur, jerking in your sleep.

Dieter brings a hand to your cheek, grazing gently. "Hey."

"M' back!" You murmur agitated. "S'mine!"

"Hey wake up," Dieter says, shaking you by the shoulder. He watches in amusement as you snort before darting up in your seat just as the meals are brought over.

"What?"

"Dinner is here and I think you were having a nightmare," Dieter explains pointing at the steaming meal on your tray. He digs into his pasta, glancing at you blinking as you slowly wake up.

"Huh?"

You lick your dry lips, twisting around in your seat to see that you've been asleep for hours.

"Dinner is here," Dieter repeats. "You wanted chicken right?"

"Uh yeah."

You can't look him in the eye. All you can think of is that part of the dream. You begin to shovel chicken into your down-turned mouth.

Dieter chews thoughtfully, wondering who you were dreaming about. Is it possible it was him? He looks at you studiously ignoring him and internally shakes his head.

There's no chance.

You're aching all over. Your breasts, your lower back, between your legs. It's overwhelming to you. You order a Diet Coke, ignoring the disappointed look on Dieters face. You read your book for a few hours as Dieter watches another movie. Then its lights out. Dieter faces you as he sleeps, his mouth parted. He’s wearing a sleep mask with winking eyes on it and the sight of it makes you smile.

He’s fucking ridiculous, this guy.

The thought that in less than a year this man will be in charge of another life makes you want to laugh out loud. But then you think of all he’s done for you lately. The way he’s laid off the drugs, the way he checks to make sure you’re okay. There’s a father in there somewhere.

It makes you smile, tilting to face him as you feel your eyelids growing heavy. You must drift off to sleep before the next thing you know the sky is lightening and you’re waking to the sounds of faint bells and murmuring passengers as the workers come by with drinks.

Dieter is already awake eating his pancake breakfast and smiling at you when you lift your head and yawn.

“Morning.”

He sees the way you only open one eye, your hair flat on one side. Your nose is scrunched up and he knows this face very well. Grumpy.

“Mmm,” you mutter at him. “Need coffee.”

“Had a feeling you might,” Dieter grins, placing a cup onto your tray. “Decaf.”

“So it serves no real purpose,” you say with a roll of your eyes. And yet you still take a sip before stealing a slice of vegan bacon off his plate.

A short while later the pilot announces that you're going to be landing soon. Dieter perks up at this and he leans across you to open the window flap, his broad body pressing against yours. The dream from yesterday comes slamming back into the forefront of your mind.

Dieter’s lean neck is inches from your mouth and it takes everything in you not to press your lips there. Instead you grunt, pushing him away by jabbing him in the ribs. He gives an exaggerated ow! and settles back in his seat frowning at you.

"Are you okay?" Dieter asks, his face turning from irritation to concern. "You're really sweaty."

His hand flies to your knee. It's not unusual; Dieter is a very tactile guy with everyone he meets. Hugs, kisses to the cheek, arms around a neck, all very normal for the men and women in his orbit. Normally you’d be fine if it weren’t for the dream. The dream that won't let go makes your cheeks grow hot. Your reply is terse.

"I'm fine."

Get your hand off my knee.

You're acting weird, tensing and looking like you have a fever. Dieter wonders if perhaps you're feeling ill. Not wanting to be overheard by a nosy neighbor Dieter tilts his mouth to your ear.

"What's wrong with you?" Dieter whispers his warm breath huffing against your temple. It sends a shiver going through you.

"D-don't do that," you groan, feeling your nipples tighten under your sweater.

"Don't what?" Dieter asks totally confused.

"Don't... Don't touch me," you manage to get out, swallowing and pushing his hand off your knee. He pulls back hurt.

"Jesus, sorry," Dieter huffs, pulling on his headphones and going back to his breakfast "Forget I said anything."

You feel guilty, but it’s better that then confess why you're really unable to stop squirming.

///

For shorter shoots Dieter stays in nice hotels. You've been with him to many Four Seasons in a room next to his trying to ignore the sound of him bringing a man or two back to his room late at night.

But since this is a longer filming schedule they have him set up in a long term rental in a beautiful rural area of Wicklow where they’re filming nearby. When the town car drives you up to it you actually let out a small gasp.

It's a large stone cottage with several bedrooms. The windows are slightly crooked, the door sticks but you find it utterly charming. Inside is more modern with sleek wooden floors, a large stone fireplace and simple furniture.

Your bedroom is replete with wainscotting and an overlook the trees. It's simple with its own bathroom (with a claw foot tub!) and large windows.

On your way back you pass Dieter's bedroom. It's large; at least three times the size of yours with an ornate fireplace. His bed is large and plush and reminds you of the old Dickens novel beds with their curtains around the four posters. His large window overlooks the misty grounds.

There are a handful of other rooms that you know right away will go to the following – an office to work out of, an entire room for all of the clothes Dieter brought and a room for his art supplies. Wherever he works he insists on an art room to work out of. It’s ridiculous and over the top but he claims it keeps him grounded.

Whatever the fuck that means.

The kitchen is simple and the dining room has intricately carved chairs around a ten place size table. You wander into the living room with the stone fireplace. Larger windows are to one side, a large set of sofas on one wall. There's a television on the fireplace and under the coffee table is a sheepskin rug.

"This place is stunning," you say beaming.

"This place is dangerous," Dieter observes. "Too many sharp edges on everything."

Is he fucking serious?

He's looking at the coffee table, dining table, counter tops and he's frowning. Where you see beautiful pieces of architecture all Dieter sees is danger. Places for you to hurt yourself. Places that put the baby in danger.

"Dieter I'm not made of glass," you groan. "You have to stop babysitting me."

You ignore his denial, heading towards one of the smaller bedrooms in the back. You unpack your belongings before pulling up the schedule and heading back. He's in the kitchen, staring out the window into the grainy sun.

"Tonight is a mixer to get to know the cast," you say reading off the invitation in his email. "Tell me if your clothes need to be pressed."

Dieter gives a long sigh. He's not looking forward to this. Mixers are fun back in LA where he knows everyone. Back before when he could get high if things got boring or overwhelming. Out here is different. The cast and crew are unfamiliar. Everyone knows everyone out here and he feels like an outsider.

"Mia Rowe will be there," you encourage when you see his hesitation. "You liked her."

"Yeah she's nice." Dieter scuffs his foot along the floor as your phone bleeps.

"It's my mom," you say holding the phone up. "I promised I'd call her when I landed."

Dieter nods, saying nothing as he hears you answer the call. He watches you walk back to your room, your voice hushed as you close the door. Dieter misses his own mother terribly. Out of his parents she was the only one who encouraged him to pursue acting, the only one who showed affection.

Of course it would be her taken by cancer when he was twenty and not his abusive drunk of a father. The same father that to this day comes out of the woodwork every few years, hands out for money.

Dieter creeps a little closer to your bedroom, listening to your mother. She speaks loudly and he can hear most of what she's saying.

"Did you have a good flight?"

"Yep, just got in and I'm going to unpack."

"I wish you weren't gone so long," your mom pouts. "I miss you here."

"I know I know," you say with a smile. "But it's only three months mom. I'll be home before you know it."

"And that actor?" Your mother sneers.

"His name is Dieter mom, you know that."

Dieter stiffens, listening to your mother's scoff.

"Such a silly boy."

"Mom you don't know him like I do," you insist. "He's really-"

"I don't care if he's the most famous man in the world. You should be doing something with your brain. Not following that man-child around Hollywood so he can drown himself in drugs and sex."

"Mom please," you say hushed. "He's my boss."

Dieter doesn't want to hear anymore. He stalks off down the hallway into his bedroom, throwing himself on the bed.

///

You tap on his door a short while later, hearing the sound of light snoring. Just as you suspected. It’s only three PM here in Ireland and you need to make sure that Dieter gets used to the time change.

You barge into his room, swanning over to where he sleeps on his stomach in his massive bed. You can’t help but be envious when you take a moment to look at his luxurious surroundings.

How the other half lives.

“No sleeping,” you tell him, shaking his shoulder. “You need to get over your jetlag. C’mon, up up, up. Let’s go for a walk.”

“Don’t wanna,” comes his muffled response.

“Dieter get up,” you say, pulling him by the wrist, frustrated when that doesn’t move him an inch. “You’re always telling me when to go on my walks, well now I’m telling you.”

“I’m tired.”

“Get used to it,” you say, leaning over his bed and speaking directly into his ear. “You’ve got at least eighteen years of sleepless nights ahead of you once this baby is born. So get your ass up!”

Dieter growls at this, pushing himself up on the bed. You watch with amusement as he literally rolls out of bed, stumbling to grab a cardigan and following you out into the bright day. You two walk out into the fresh air, inhaling deeply as you find a small trail.

“It’s nice and brisk,” you tell him as you two explore the grounds of the rental. “Let’s go this way.”

You move over some twigs, enjoying the lush surroundings. This is your favorite part about working for Dieter, the ability to travel the world. How many other people can say they’ve been to so many countries their passport is almost full after only a few years?

“It’s cold.”

“Oh it is not,” you tell him, feeling strangely energized at the moment. “You’re in Ireland! You should be excited!”

“Job’s a job,” he mutters.

You want to tell him that he’s acting like a spoiled brat, but you refrain. The hormones make you more emotional, more prone to irritation. But at the end of the day, Dieter is your boss. Your job is to make his life easier, more pleasant. You’re not really doing that if you’re calling him names.

You lapse into a comfortable silence, your eyes scanning everywhere. It’s so gorgeous here. And it’s nice because there’s never need for Dieter to have security on these more remote European shoots. The people of Europe aren’t as fussed about Dieter’s celebrity as those back in the states.

You glance over at him, seeing his strong profile. His warm eyes are hidden by sunglasses and he seems to feel your eyes on him because his head tilts in your direction.

"What does your mom think of all this?" Dieter asks pointing at your belly as you walk. After he'd heard how she spoke about him he'd been focused on it randomly through the day. "Since she hates me and all."

"She doesn't hate you," you say wrinkling your nose. "Where did you get that idea?"

Dieter flushes, not wanting to admit he was spying. “You said she can’t stand me.”

"My mom is just protective," you say without thinking. "She's just upset I left school and-"

Dieter knows that you’re smart. You went to Stanford, you’re incredibly organized and well spoken. But he never really understood why a Stanford graduate would want to work as a PA. The pay is good, but not amazing.

"Why did you leave school?"

You pause, unsure if you should continue because if you do he's going to learn more about your life than you care for. You assume that this will make things awkward. But when you see his glasses removed and his large eyes fixed on your face you decide there's little about this situation that isn't awkward. You’re carrying his child for fuck’s sake.

"I left halfway through my Masters," you begin. Like an eager child Dieter interrupts, brows furrowed.

"What was your Masters in?"

"Biochemistry."

"Bio-" Dieters eyes blow wide, his hands sweeping dramatically through the air as you walk. "What the fuck are you doing being my PA? You could be a fucking doctor!"

"I just want to do research," you shrug. “Not interested in being a doctor.”

"But I don't understand," Dieter says frowning. "Why did you leave?"

Dieter watches as your mouth twists to the side, uncharacteristic of you. Then he sees the tears at the corner of your eyes, the ones you blink back.

He’s never seen you cry before, never seen you extremely emotional and for the briefest moment he’s shocked by the display. He wants to raise a thumb and brush them away, wants to comment on the fact that he’s never seen you cry. But something stops him and you blink the tears back before swallow thickly.

"My dad died suddenly," you finally utter, hands absently rubbing against your thighs as you walk. "And my mom couldn't afford the mortgage, and she works so hard and I could stand the thought of losing the house. So I got this job and ..."

You trail off. Dieter sees the pain there in your eyes. Knows that if he pushes too far you’re going to fold into yourself. He’ll shift the subject slightly.

"What did you want to do research in?"

"Neuroendocrine cancer," you finally say in a quiet voice. "It’s what my dad died of. Large cell neuroendocrine tumour. Pretty grim shit."

"My mom died of cancer too."

You glance up over at him for the first time since you started explaining. Dieter has never spoken about his mother to you, nor anyone as far as you know. Never spoken to any interviewer about it, never mentioned it in a press junket. Nothing.

Without thought his hand slides into yours and you allow it, even gripping him back. You give him a sad smile, the look of understanding of a particularly awful subject not known to many.

"Fuck cancer."

Dieter watches as you nod and then that shield that is ever present in your eyes slides back into place. You pull your hand back and he immediately misses the contact. Dieter looks down at his empty hand, brows furrowed.

"So what does your mom think about the baby?"

"She doesn't know," you confess. "It would ... I can't do that to her."

"Uh, I think she's gonna notice eventually," Dieter says bluntly. “You’re not showing now, but we’re here for a few months. You’ll have popped by the time we get back.”

"I’ve already thought about it. I'll tell her I'm working off site for you," you tell him with a shrug. "Then I'll rent a place nearby until I give birth."

"That's insane."

"It's what needs to happen," you say flatly. "My mom would be devastated. She always wanted grand kids."

"Well one day-"

"I don't want kids," you tell him flatly. "Never have. Ever. I don’t wanna give her false hope.” You see Dieter’s look of surprise. “I'm tired, let’s head back."

Dieter watches you stalk ahead of him, his eyes following the curve of your spine as you move.

///

“Now remember what Diane told you. No drugs.”

“I feel like I’m choking,” Dieter frowns, tugging at his bow tie.

“No girls or guys. Not on the first night.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dieter says as you straighten his bow tie. “I know all the fucking rules.”

You stand back, making sure that the outfit his stylist sent over looks good. His suit is tailored to show of his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The pants hit him just below the ankle and his shoes are beautiful and buttery leather. He wears a crisp white linen shirt underneath and a shimmering purple bow tie to ‘keep it Bravo’ as the stylish said. He makes a face, tugging at the cuffs before sighing and shrugging at you.

“How do I look?”

Mouthwatering.

To you, when Dieter actually puts an effort into what he’s wearing he’s quite attractive. But then again with these hormones in overdrive he kind of looks alluring to you all the time. As do most people of the opposite sex.

“You look fine,” you mutter feeling flustered. “Car will be here in five.”

Dieter feels a tug of disappointment that he only looks fine. He thought he looked good. He watches you tap on your phone, likely marking off the final item from your checklist today and getting ready for tomorrow.

He feels a rush of affection as you stand there working so hard to make his life easier while his child grows in your belly. You never complain about work, never complain about the long hours. You’re a hard worker and Dieter suddenly realizes that he might be working you too hard.

"What're you gonna do tonight?"

"I'm pretty tired so I'll probably just finish this up, watch a nature doc and get to bed early.”

“That’s good,” Dieter replies relieved. “You should rest more.”

“Sure.” You give him a quirked brow as you rub your abdomen. "This baby is kicking my ass and it's only the size of a fig."

Dieter smiles at this. He wishes he could stay here with you, watching TV and then going to bed early. Thoughts of snuggling up against you, his hand gently over your belly flash into his mind. The domesticity of such a scenario appeals to him. You see the headlights of the car shine through the window and you walk him to the front door.

“Have fun,” you smile before adding: “Just not too much fun.”

///

You start when a few hours later the door to the rental slams, almost upsetting the bowl of chips in your lap. Your eyes blink blearily as Dieter comes into focus looking thunderous. A glance at your watch shows it’s not that late.

“You’re back early.”

Dieter just grunts, tossing off his leather shoes and shrugging off his jacket. He hangs it on the hook before stomping over in your direction. He looks from the TV and back to you, his full mouth curved into a frown.

“How was it?”

“Food was shit. Booze was watered down.”

“But at least you had a friend,” you reason. "Mia-"

“Mia wasn’t even there,” Dieter interrupts with an irritated growl. “Her flight gets in tomorrow morning. So I knew nobody there.”

You wince as you watch Dieter pull the bow tie from his neck and toss it to the ground. You recognize this anger, this frustration. Dieter doesn’t like to be uncomfortable in what he wears or in social situations, especially if he’s sober.

“Was it really awful?”

“Everyone ignored me,” Dieter mutters. “And when they didn’t ignore me they were judging me on my American-ness. They asked if I had Botox and went tanning like the Kardashians. It was fucking brutal.”

You feel a thread of pity go through you at that. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Dieter sighs heavily, unbuttoning his shirt to his sternum. “And I didn’t have anything to keep me level. Only thing that kept me clean was knowing this little person was counting on me.”

He points at your belly and you feel a sudden warmth flood you. The knowledge that Dieter is actually trying to better himself for his child. It makes you relent on keeping him at a distance and instead you motion to the television.

“You wanna watch a bunch of rhinos get killed and eat chips?”

A grin cracks over his previously irritated expression.

“Yes.”

Dieter throws himself onto the couch next to you, his arm slung around on the couch behind your head. You don’t object, even though you really shouldn’t be here snuggled up this close to your boss. Especially when he smells like cologne and his shirt is unbuttoned.

He picks some chips from the bowl in your lap, crunching away. You force your attention to the screen, trying not to be aware of how warm he is next to you or how kissable his lips are. The desire to run your nose along his neck is overwhelming.

Fuck I want him.

“This is fucking depressing,” Dieter observes with a wince as the rhino in the documentary is gored. “Why the fuck do you watch these?”

“I find them relaxing.”

“I bet you like murder podcasts too.”

“I do,” you grin. “How did you know?”

“All women do,” Dieter shrugs and you find yourself rolling your eyes at this. Sometimes he can be so asinine.

You continue watching the doc, chewing on chips and chatting quietly. For the most part you can ignore the fact that Dieter is attractive and focus on the mayhem on the screen. But then midway he tugs at the blanket covering your legs and pulls part of it across his own. You panic slightly, pulling it back.

“What are you-“

“Share.”

He says it simply like a petulant child, his eyes still on the screen as he pulls his half back. You know he’s not trying to hit on you, he’s really just cold. When he’s on drugs he’s always overheated, walking around in his robe and boxers. But off of coke and everything else you’ve noticed he runs cold, often needing more layers.

But then you’re both under the blanket and you feel his thigh against yours. You feel the soft fabric of his pants and the warmth there. Your fingers are itching to run along his inner thigh, stroking until-

“What?” Dieter asks when he catches you looking at him as you fantasize. “Do I have something on my face?”

He’s your boss.

“I have to go to bed!” you suddenly shout, pushing the chip bowl onto his lap and standing abruptly.

“Uh, goodnight.”

Dieter watches in confusion as you move quickly from beside him and rush into your bedroom. He shrugs, going back to the television and chewing obnoxiously on the remaining chips.

Inside the confines of your bedroom you lock the door and throw yourself into your bed. You fall into a fitful sleep, but only after you’ve brought yourself to a muffled orgasm at the thought of your boss’s body on yours.

///

Dieter arises the next morning to find you dressed and waiting with a cup of coffee for him. He’s still irritable about last nights’ party, and how you rushed off from him. He’d been enjoying the time spent with you not talking about work. But he recognizes the look in your eyes, you’re in PA mode right now.

“Morning,” you chirp, passing him the coffee. “Okay, so today you have your costume fittings in Waterford and then I thought do you wanna do a classic Ireland thing Mister Sourpuss?”

“Sure,” Dieter replies from behind his coffee mug.

“Good. Go get dressed.”

You both load into the town car not long after, giving the address and leaning back as you watch the beautiful scenery go by. Dieter naps the entire way, his hoodie pulled up and his sunglasses on.

Waterford is an adorable city along the water, the buildings colorful and looking like something out of a book. The sidewalk is cobblestone and the swans in the water follow the town car as it drops you right outside the costumer’s shop and you nudge Dieter awake.

Inside the shop is cramped and smells of bleach and linen and Dieter wrinkles his nose. When no one greets you, you call out for Fia, the name you’ve been given. A plump woman with a sweet face arrives from the back, her hair in bright pink space buns and her wrist bearing a pincushion with pearl-edged pins.

“Oh Mister Bravoh, tis a pleasure to be seein’ ya. Take a stand there my love,” she says pointing to the pedestal. “We’ll get ya suited up for filmin’.”

While Dieter stands and has his costumes fitted you take a chance to walk around the small shop. You can hear Dieter and Fia chatting quietly behind you, occasionally laughing. But you can’t help note that Dieter is much quieter today.

You scan some of the costumes that are labeled with the name of the production that Dieter is working on. You can’t help but touch the brocade and silks before you see a beautiful blue regency costume with white chiffon overlay in a collection of starry designs. It’s stunning.

Your eyes fall on the costume jewelry in the case nearby, marvelling at how realistic they look. You’ve often wanted to wear ornate jewelry, but it’s not your style. A small silver ring with a heart held by two hands sticks out to you as familiar.

“This is so cute,” you comment when Fia comes over to grab some more pins. “I’ve seen these on women before.”

“Ah the claddagh ring,” she says with a grin. “Classic piece of Irish jewelry. You ever heard of it?”

“Yeah actually I have,” you nod. “I think my friend in high school wore one.”

“You know the symbolism of it?”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head confused. Symbolism? “I thought rings were just rings, unless they’re engagement or wedding ones.”

Fia grins widely at you showcasing a charming gap between her two front teeth. She goes behind the glass case and brings out the ring so you can see when she twists it as she talks.

“If you wear it on your right hand with the heart pointed to the fingertips it means you’re single and looking for love. If it’s on the same hand but pointed at the wrist someone has captured your heart. On the left and pointed at the fingertips you’re engaged and if it’s pointed at the wrist you’re married.”

“That’s sweet,” you say with a little smile.

“How would you wear it, darlin’?”

You ponder. “How does one wear it if they’re single and just looking for a good time?”

Fia lets loose a raucous laugh at that.

“Then she wears no ring 'tall!”

///

“Here we are,” you announce one lunch and one extremely long drive later. Dieter peers up from behind his glasses, tired from the fitting and from his horrible night last night.

“Blarney Castle and Gardens?”

“You ever heard of kissing the Blarney stone?” you ask as you get out of the car. “This is it!”

Dieter follows you towards the aged looking castle, tugging his hoodie back up over his head and making sure his sunglasses are firmly in place.

He watches you with a wry little smirk as you skip towards the entrance.

“So if you kiss the Blarney stone you get the gift of gab,” you say recalling what you read on the website.

“Well, you don’t need to kiss it,” Dieter observes shrewdly. “You never shut up.”

“Ha ha,” you say sarcastically. You elbow him lightly in the ribs, smirking happily when he gives a wince. He follows you to the booth, about to pull out his wallet.

“My treat,” you tell him, producing your own credit card to the teller. “Two please.”

Dieter nods, thanking you and taking his ticket. He can't remember the last time someone treated him to something like this. Sure he gets goodie bags at awards shows, but this feels different.

He follows you into the gardens, walking towards an already bustling crowd. He keeps track of you by your head, weaving through the crowd. He panics a moment when he sees your shoulders connect with a woman going in the opposite direction and he has to hold himself back from gripping your wrist as you walk too far ahead.

"Fuck this place is crowded," Dieter mumbles to you as you line up outside the castle with the hundreds of other tourists. You feel a bit deflated as you glance around, your eyes landing on so many faces.

"Yeah," you nod. "I didn't think it would be this busy this time of day. We can go if you want."

"And watch you sulk because you missed out on a classic Irish experience?" Dieter rolls his eyes, no power behind it.

"I don't sulk."

Dieter fixes you with a knowing look and you can't help but laugh. He smirks and you're thankful when the line starts moving.

"How are you feeling these days with Bubble?" Dieter speaks quietly. "You seem like you have a lot more energy."

"Yeah it's weird, I feel so much better now than the last few months," you say with a shrug. “I guess because-“

Anything you were going to say is lost when a voice rings out from behind you, starting the two of you.

"Oh my gosh,"" says a woman with a Midwestern accent. She's staring over your shoulder at Dieter and raising her camera in preparation. "Are you Dieter Bravo?"

You and Dieter both feel crestfallen. You’d wanted a nice, relaxing day for the both of you. Not for a crowd of people to photograph Dieter and charge at him asking for his autograph. A few heads are turning in your direction.

"No," Dieter suddenly replies flatly and you try to hold in a laugh when you hear his voice come out with a the worst Irish accent you’ve ever heard. "I do get it all the time lassie so don't be worryin'."

The women looks deflated before nodding and offering a quiet apology. She lowers her camera and slinks back to her group.

"Lassie is Scottish you fool," you murmur in his ear, trying to hold in your giggles. Dieter's eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh shit, really?"

You have to press your face against his chest to contain your laughter, feeling his body vibrate as he tries to hold in his own chuckles. Dieter can't help but run his knuckles down your arm in affection. Your laughter slowly ebbs and you pull back, wiping at the corner of your damp eyes.

It's about forty minutes of chatting quietly with Dieter before you arrive at the front of the line.

You go first, laying down and leaning back to kiss the famed stone. When you do your shirt rides up a bit, a sliver of your belly visible. Dieter feels his cheeks get hot at the sight. You press your lips to the piece of architecture and slide back up to give Dieter a chance.

Dieter is next to lay in the same spot you vacated, rolling his eyes at you as he tilts back and kisses the rock. You are pushed ahead as he does this by the other groups leaving. You almost trip over an errant piece of stone when a man grips your elbow to stop your fall.

“Careful there,” he says sweetly.

“Thank you,” you say honestly, gently taking your elbow back. “Close call.”

“Tis true,” The man replies before giving you a wink. "Enjoying yerself here?"

"I am. This place is so beautiful."

"None of it hold a candle to you," the man replies.

Immediately you feel yourself blushing. Those overwhelming feelings of arousal that are always just they're in periphery come full force. The desire to just fuck this man in front of you is overriding all common sense.

"That's very kind of you to say."

"Not just sayin' it," he says, the lilt to his voice completely charming you. "Are you single by any chance?"

"No. She's not."

Dieter is behind you, his mouth in a grim line. He has his sunglasses on but you can imagine the icy stare he's shooting. You shoot him a dark look, irritated that he's messing this up for you. The man looks embarrassed, holding up his hands in clemency.

“I’m sorry, I had no-“

"Let’s go," Dieter says, an arm going possessive around your waist. You’re in shock as he herds you towards the car but it wears off by the time you hit the parking lot.

"Dieter what the fuck was that?" You hiss wrenching out of his grip once you are both out of the handsome man's earshot.

"I thought he was bothering you," Dieter explains as you both load into the back of the car. "Was just trying to protect you and the baby."

"You thought the handsome man calling me beautiful was a danger?"

Dieter shrugs, "C'mon, its gonne be dark soon."

///

You go to set with Dieter the first day of shooting. You always do to get the lay of the land, meet the important people and plan his subsequent meetings.

Back in the states, everyone is normally falling over themselves the second Dieter arrives on set.

But today is more subdued; people greet him with a nod before going back to their conversations. Even when he swaggers to his trailer speaking loudly it's only the director who sails over to shake his hand. A cheerful British accent rings out behind you.

"I was hoping I'd see you both again!"

Mia is behind you in a stunning regency costume, the one you saw yesterday in Waterford. Her blonde hair is done in an ornate knot at the top of her head and when she smiles at the both of you she looks stunning.

She hugs you tightly before doing the same to Dieter. You note that Dieter eyes her warmly and you make a mental note to remind him he's not supposed to be fraternizing with anyone right now.

“Nice to see you, Mia.”

“And you Dieter,” she grins. “How has your trip been?”

“Pretty dull until you showed up,” Dieter says smoothly. You feel a tug at your ribs at that statement. You thought you’d both had fun at the Blarney Castle yesterday. But perhaps you were oblivious to him having a bad time.

"This is Joshua," Mia says pointing to a man about your age coming up behind her. "He's my darling savior."

"Just her assistant," he says warmly. "And please call me Josh."

He's handsome when he smiles at you, shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.

Dieter watches the way your eyes subtly scan his face and body and he feels irritated that you would do so when you're supposed to be focused on him and work.

"I could never manage without him!" Mia trills and you feel a stab of jealousy. Dieter has never spoken about you like that before. You doubt he really registers all you do for him.

Mia turns to Dieter, launching into a conversation about their scene today. The two of them dissolve into conversation.

"We should exchange numbers," Josh murmurs at you lowly. "Just in case Mia and Dieter need something from one another."

“Sure.” You hide a smirk and put him in your phone as: "MIA ROWE/JOSH".

Dieter is pressing his shoulder to yours, chewing his gum obnoxiously as he and Mia chat. You’re confused as to why he’s clinging so closely to you, then you remember that he’s likely nervous about being away from the baby during work.

The director calls for the actors on set and Mia and Josh rush off. You hold out a napkin under Dieter’s chin in habit. He’s forever chewing gum when he’s working, a bad habit that drives most directors insane. You motion to the napkin with your head.

"Spit."

Dieter rolls his eyes, leaning forward and spitting his gum into the napkin. You wad it up and stick it at the bottom of the bag that carried his coffee. These are the days when you hate your job. The ones where you feel like a glorified babysitter, when you feel less than human.

An hour later you and Josh are both standing on the side of a period set piece watching your bosses work on a particularly lengthy scene.

"So you spend a lot of time on set?"

"Yeah," Josh nods. "You?"

"Not really," you shake your head. "Dieter always has a million irons in the fire. Interviews, sponsorship, ambassador stuff overseas, art shows, the list goes on. I'm usually busy in the office."

"Yeah he's an old pro. Mia is still pretty new on the scene," Josh surmises. "Still not launched into superstardom so there's not as much to plan. I have a feeling that'll change after this movie though."

You nod as the director requests silence. Mia is a natural and watching her and Dieter work off one another is a sight to see. They seem very natural, their chemistry palpable. When Dieter pulls her towards him for a stolen kiss, you feel your cheeks warm. Mia raises her beautiful eyes up at him, her face gorgeous.

"They look good together," Josh whispers as the scene ends.

"Yeah," you nod. "They do."

You sneak a glance out the corner of your eyes to see Josh's profile. Strong jaw, nice nose. Josh is going to be your solution to the whole horny thing, you decide. He works erratic hours like you, he won't be here long term like you and you both understand what it's like to work in a ridiculous business.

Plus he's sexy.

By the end of the day you're tired, but you’re not sure if it's from genuine fatigue or the baby. You nibble on some crackers from craft services as you and Dieter are driven back to his rental.

"You and Josh seemed cozy today," Dieter observes, blowing cigarette smoke outside the window. You type away at your phone, trying to sound neutral.

"He's nice."

"He's Mia's assistant. Looks pretty fucking unprofessional both of you to be flirting all day while you're getting paid to work."

You bristle, feeling your temper flare. But at the same time you feel anxious. You didn't think you'd been obvious. And you've never had Dieter talk to you like this, so harsh. Yeah you’re carrying his kid but he’s also your boss. You don't answer him, but you do make a mental note to stay away from Josh on set.

On your days off however? Dieter doesn't get to say a fucking thing.

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo smut #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #pedro pascal dieter #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #the bubble

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

Text

and they were roommates | H.S

summary: when harry and Y/N have gone from longtime best friends to roommates, the lines that have been slowly blurring since their teen years are beginning to disappear altogether.

warnings: smut, oral fem rec, PIV (unprotected), praise kink, kind of a size kink if you squint— and sexual mentions throughout!

my masterlist <3

——————

“Dude, why are you drinking out of my coffee cup again.” You groan, after opening the cupboard to find your favourite cup missing for what had to be the third time this week.

You and Harry have been living together for over half a year now, since he got back from touring with one direction and you started college.

It all happened relatively quickly, Harry wanted a place with someone— so it was never alone over the months he was touring— and you didn’t want to stay on campus with a heap of people you didn’t know.

So here you are, living in your 3 bedroom flat, with your best friend while studying to get the job of your dreams. It sounds ideal doesn’t it, till your flat mate starts stealing everything you own I suppose.

“M’sorry,” he laughs from the couch, not meaning it whatsoever.

“It’s just s’cute— reminds me of you with all the little hearts n’stuff on it.” He glances over his shoulder, a guilty smile on his face as he brings it up to his lips and swallows a mouthful of hot tea.

You grab his cup from the shelf, “We live together, there’s hundreds of things in this house that should remind you of me other than my mug.”

“It’s fine, I’ll use yours instead.” You know his favourite, the one Gemma and Anne got him for his 14th birthday, with their faces plastered all over it.

“Go ahead, doesn’t bother me at all.” He says smugly, stretched out on our couch, clad in grey sweats and a black tshirt.

You make yourself a tea, and plop down next to him— since it’s Sunday, you don’t have anything planned other than going to the campus library to study.

As if he read your mind he asks, “what’re the plans for today, sweet thing.”

Him and his bloody pet names.

He’s been doing it since you were in highschool, and he started calling you ‘baby’ as a joke because you said you thought it was a cheesy nickname, and it’s stuck around even years later. Now he has a full list of nicknames, equally as disgustingly lovey.

Yet, coming from his mouth and in his accent, they somehow evoke a blush on your cheeks everytime.

His girlfriends never liked the nickname thing— even though he toned it down a lot, if not completely. You rarely heard them, except maybe when you were alone, another thing that didn’t often happen when he was with someone.

The amount of girls who absolutely despised your existence back in highschool all because of your friendship with Harry.

Plenty of girls made up the most scandalous rumours possible to try and get Harry to hate you, fortunately it never worked.

In the end it never really mattered, his relationships never really lasted particularly long anyway. A lot of girls just couldn’t handle the fact he was so close with you, and to be honest you did understand.

“Not much sugar, just going to the library later to study.”

“Can I come?”

“Are you suggesting I sneak you into our student only library right now?” You say in mock surprise.

“Absolutely i am, and maybe then we can go out and get a bite to eat.”

“You’re just gonna be sitting there doing nothing for like probably 2 hours?” You shrug, unsure why he’d want to come in the first place.

“That’s s’alright, I would’ve just been doing that ‘round here anyway.”

“Alright, better not get me caught then.” You sigh.

“I’ll wear that really baggy college jumper you have, they’ll never know.” He laughs.

“Just another thing if mine you’re gonna start stealing, hm?”

“Oh, well now you’ve suggest that—“ He chuckles and you dig your elbow into his side.

“Ouch!” He yelps, as if it actually hurt that much, and he quickly reaches over to have some payback.

Knowing he’s probably gonna tickle you, you jump up, “Oh god— not with the tea, not with the tea!”

He smoothly slips the mug out of your grip and places it down on the table.

You panic, knowing how brutal his tickling is.

Your legs only get you so far across the room before he catches up, immediately prodding you in the waist— he knows that has you disarmed in seconds unfortunately.

He tugs you into his chest, fingers skating all over your body causing you to squirm.

You’re half laughing half crying as you fight against him, “oh my god— Harry, please—“

“You know I always give good payback, love.” He laughs as you’re both stumbling around in the lounge room.

You manage to knock him into the couch, practically sitting him down. His lips part and you’re left standing directly between his spread legs.

His brows shot up his face, a few brown curls falling over his eyes.

Of course he looks fucking gorgeous right now.

You find plenty of these little moments, where sometimes it takes more strength then it should to pull yourself away from him. Your head muddled with images— fantasies— of your lips on his.

You allow yourself to indulge just a little, letting your hand sweep the curls that have fallen over his eyes back. Pulling them hard enough to tip his eye line to you.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You say breathless, attempting to sound annoyed but you don’t think it would have scared a fly.

And with that, you move from the space between his legs and head back to your room.

Harry is left sitting there, also short of breath, with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

——————

About 2 hours later, you’re laying down on your bed, book in hand when the door to your room opens.

“Hey Satan.” You say, not looking up from your page.

“Hey Angel.” You can literally hear him smiling.

He walks into your walk-in-closet, and starts to flick through the racks.

“And what exactly are you doing.” Sighing, you put the book down.

He comes out, pulling your grey college hoodie over his head. It hardly looks baggy on him, compared to how it is on you.

“Getting ready t’go.”

“You’re uninvited.” You scoff, sounding deadpan, but he knows you don’t mean it.

“Awh, you mad at me hm?” He comes over, grabbing your hand to pull you up off the bed.

You don’t fight him as he tugs you up, nor do you agree or disagree.

“God you’re a bluff.” He laughs as he picks up your bag with his free hand.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, a smile cracking through.

He doesn’t drop your hand as this time you pull him out of your room to grab your keys.

The college campus is luckily only a 5 minute drive down the road, and it’s not long before you’re both walking in.

You scan your student key card to get into the library, and because it’s Sunday afternoon it’s pretty much dead.

There’s two people sitting over by the windows on their computers and that appears to be it.

Harry follows you down to the back of the library, where your favourite spot is, surrounded with shelves and has warm midday sun streaming through the skylight.

You sink into the leather couch, and start pulling stuff out of your bag.

Harry has ended up flipping through the books nearby, and you really take a moment to look at him in your hoodie.

A feeling swells in your chest, that he really wanted to spend his afternoon with you in a library, and how… cute he looks in your jumper.

You assume this is probably how guys feel when girls are wearing their overly baggy shirt and boxers or something.

But instead you can nearly see the bulge of his bicep outlined through the material.

He walks back over, slipping his phone out from his back pocket before he sitting down next to you.

“Thanks for sneaking me in.” He leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Your welcome.” You chuckle.

You open your laptop, beginning to file through notes, and he’s scrolling on his phone.

It’s a comfortable silence, something you’d never get sick of. Just being with one another.

His had slips over the back of the chair, fingers brushing your shoulder.

Heat zips up your spine for no good reason. You want to die a little, hating how you find yourself getting hot and bothered all because of his touch— and since you’ve moved in together it’s happening all the more often.

Like the times you end up cuddling on the couch, watching romcoms, and his hands would fall on the peak of your hip and the dip of your waist, pulling you into his chest. God his hands. Usually adorned with cold rings, at that time of night they’re bare and warm.

Or when you’ve fallen asleep on said couch with him, and woken up— somehow having slept all night without waking— in a tangle of limbs with him, feeling his morning wood poking into you. Him apologising profusely after waking up, even though it’s not the first time it’s happened.

However this isn’t an entirely new feeling. There were the few times as teenagers when you pushed the limits on your friendship. Usually drunk and sneaking back into one of your houses, and ending up against the wall or in bed, getting so close to kissing it physically made your body ache. Till someone laughed, or he tickled you.

That one time you were sitting on his lap at a party and you felt him harden beneath you, and you played into it a little, innocently wiggling your hips against him. And when he’d looked at you— eyes dark and filled with undeniable desire— you’d coyly asked him what was wrong, like as if you didn’t know exactly what the problem was. “Nothing.” He’d cleared his throat, scooting you down his leg with his hands. “Just uh, have t’go to the bathroom.”

You shake you head, physically— hoping to clear your thoughts— and his eyes snap to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a light frown on his face.

You clear your throat, “just remembered I…”

His thumb is stroking your shoulder, really not helping you collect yourself. You clench your thighs together.

“Have a test tomorrow.” You finished slowly, and his eyes narrow for a second before nodding.

He doesn’t say anything as you aimlessly scroll through notes, pretending to focus when all you can feel is his fingers grazing along your shoulder.

45 minutes.

A fully excruciating 45 minutes you sit there, half attempting to focus on the notes as his fingers trace the length of your shoulder, and even ghost over the junction of your neck and upper back.

“I think I’m done.” You blurt, causing his gaze to snap to you and hand to still.

“Wanna get something to eat then?” He asks, a slight edge to his voice you can’t properly place.

“Maybe if we can just go home? I have a headache to be honest, I kinda just want to eat some ramen and crash on the couch.” You ramble, hoping he’s not annoyed you’re not going out for lunch— when In reality Harry would never care about something like that.

“‘Course beautiful.” He nods, a smirk flashing over his lips.

The drive home is just as painful for you, and you feel like you need to have a cold shower to get out of the headspace you’re in.

Because everything he’s doing is somehow being warped into completely non-platonic thoughts— plain filthy thoughts.

Like how he’s fiddling with his ring right now at the red light, slowly slipping his finger in and out of it.

Oh god.

As you get home, you are almost jumping out of the car.

Distance, you need distance— right now.

You leave your bag in the back, ready just to get inside.

You’re fumbling with your keys at the door, trying to find the house key amongst 20 others, and Harry is right behind you.

He reaches over, plucking up the gold key on the key ring, “this one.” His voice sounds gravely, almost sultry as it enters your ears and into your depraved and clearly aroused mind.

You unlock the door, toeing off your shoes, “You’ve really gotten yourself worked up, hm?”

He asks, and you freeze.

You don’t say a word as you stand just inside the doorway, he’s right behind you but you can’t trust that actually just came out of his mouth.

Because maybe you’re hearing things— maybe really horny people hear thi—

“Don’t think I haven’t seen how hard you’ve been clenching those pretty little thighs.”

“Wh…what?” You stutter out as he moves closer to you.

He’s in your space when you turn around, and your stepping back— only to be met with him stepping forward again.

This happens until your back hits the hallway wall, and his hands bracketing either side of your body.

His hands move to rest on your lower hips, gently enough that if you weren’t comfortable with it, you could slip them straight off.

“I’ve seen you like this before.” He states, eyes dark.

“How you get so zoned out, I’d kill to see what’s going inside that head of yours.”

“Harry…” Your hands are hardly an inch away from his chest, tingling to touch him.

You’re reminded— the second time today— of the time when you were teenagers, up against the wall of his bedroom.

“Fuck.” Harry sighed, breath hot against the side of your neck.

You’d somehow managed to sneak back into his house without waking his family, which is shocking considering the amount of drunken giggling coming from the both of you.

Or the stumbling up the stairs as he playfully swatted your ass behind you.

It was somewhat a wonder of how you ended up against the wall of his bedroom, hands all over eachother.

He was half-hard, you could feel him pressed into your side shamelessly as he ran his palms along your figure.

“Am I getting you all hard?” The alcohol in your system gave you confidence to ask outright with a laugh.

He chuckled back without an ounce worry, “Yea, honestly.”

“Didn’t know I did it for you like that.” You pushed your hands up his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his torso.

“Mm, I betcha don’t.” He licked a stripe up the shell of your ear and you let out a little humorous squeak.

“You’re so sensitive.” He started to tickle you and you squirmed under his grip.

That was the closest to kissing the two of you got that night, and although the tension was palpable, you somehow managed to resist it. Even though you both wanted to so bad it made you ache.

Scooping you up, he plopped you onto his bed, your dress riding up your thighs.

He chucked you one of his shirts and sweatpants for you to change into.

Nothing more happened, he got into bed with you after stripping down to his boxers and you rolled into his arms.

“Look cute in my clothes baby, as always.” He kissed your temple.

“Mm, you’re cute, H. Think you’re really sweet.” You slurred with sleep.

“Love when you call me baby.” You confess while you play with his hair.

“D’ya?” He smiled into your neck.

“Yea…”

“See, there you go again— what’s got you all distracted?” His calm question snapped you back to reality.

You slide your fingers down to his waist, still not sure what to say, head spinning at his close proximity.

“Or do I have to work it out for myself?” He slips his hand to your waistband, waiting again for a reply.

An uncalled for whimper slipped from your mouth, louder than you’d like to admit.

“Fuckin hell.” He groans, moving to graze his lips on your cheek, not doing anything without asking.

God they were soft. So fucking soft.

You kissed his cheekbone, and you both gently pecked around eachothers face, all but evading lips.

“Please kiss me, H.” You tugged on his hair.

He wasted no time sliding his lips over yours. The two of you savouring that first real kiss.

You both held it for a few moments, the years of tension melting into it. Too far gone to worry about the repercussions this could possibly have on your friendship.

At this point, you’ve crossed the line between your platonic friendship and not so small romantic feelings so long ago— perhaps without even releasing— that although it’s a new feeling, it almost feels natural.

Years of short pecks, and gentle, mostly chaste kisses— not to say you haven’t made out while blackout drunk i suppose— have made you both eager to experience a kiss like this for the first time.

It quickly went from a feather-soft kiss to one you could only deem hungry and exploratory.

The first real taste of his tongue was hooking, he swiped it along your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth and plucking it towards him.

The pop it made as he released it had you groaning into him.

Your hands— which had long since found their way into his curly hair— were tugging at the roots.

He pulled your legs up around his waist, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

“You’re so hard—“ you moaned out, pushing your hips forward to grind against him.

“God, you feel s’fucking good. Bet you’re so wet right now.”

“Touch me, Harry, please touch me.”

He chuckled into your neck, “I am baby,”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Tell me what y’want.”

“Want you. Anything, anything you’ll give me.”

His mouth is back on yours before you can say more, and he’s carrying you down the hallway into his room.

He carefully sets you down on the edge of his of bed, dropping to his knees between your splayed legs.

“Can we take these off?” He clarifies as he grabs the top of your pants.

“Yes,” you sigh out and he slips them from your legs.

He tosses them aside before coming to solely focus on you.

You’re only in plain black panties, and you open your mouth to apologise for it,

“Sorry, didn’t really think I’d—“

“Don’t you dare apologise. This is bloody…” He leans to press a kiss on the inside of your knee before ghosting his hand over the fabric covering your core.

Moving forward he lays an open-mouthed kiss on top of where your clit is, and you moan out softly.

He could feel how damp the soft cotton of your underwear was beneath his lips, and he looks up to you.

“Can these come off too?” He asks, hooking his fingers around them, eager to get them off.

Another keen yes slips from your mouth, and he tugs them from your hips.

He’s quiet for a moment, as your lower half is laid on display to him. His eyes are flitting over every detail possible, taking in what has to be the only part of you he hasn’t seen in your years of friendship.

“You are phenomenal.” He says, his filthy praise has your head spinning.

“And so wet…” he licks his lips carefully, “all for me?”

You groan again at his words, hardly able to form a coherent sentence to answer such a question.

“Use y’words, darlin’.”

“Yes, Harry— just for you. All this just for you.” You whine, pushing your hips up into nothing, aching for any kind of friction.

He kisses everywhere, just under your belly button, the crease of your inner thigh— everywhere except for where you want him most.

“Harry, don’t tease me, just want your mouth on me.” You say outright, moaning at his finger that’s slipped up to your entrance, gently rubbing the outside of it.

“Want my mouth?” He smirks, his ego taking your begging personally.

He leans forward, jutting his tongue out to where his index finger was just circling. But instead of staying there, he drags it up, bringing your arousal to your clit.

You never imagined the first thing the two of you would do would be this. Him burying his face between your legs, licking into you like he was getting payed.

But fuck was it perfect. It felt like everything was clicking into place.

The way he’s lapping at your clit has you already fluttering around nothing.

“Taste s’fucking good. Like a dream.” He says into you, the vibration of his words causing you to arch into him.

“Thought about you like this so many times.”

Images of him touching himself to the thought of you flash to life in your brain. In his room, on this very bed. His warm hand wrapped around himself, uttering your name quietly with every soft tug he does. You wonder what else he thought about, if he was imagining your lips wrapped around him instead, or maybe being buried within you.

“Me too,” you admit, breathless.

“How good you’d taste— or how tight your little cunt would be around me.”

“Shit, Harry—“ you moan, his lips moving to suck on your clit, and his two fingers slipping into you.

He pulls his face back a fraction to look at the fingers he just pushed into you.

“And I was right. Aleady fuckin’ squeezing around my fingers like it’s too much hm? How’re y’gonna take m’cock?”

His perfect curly hair is being mused by your hands and you’re practically trying to tug his mouth back to your swollen clit.

“I’ll take it, I will.” You promise.

“Mm you will, that’s right. Good girl.” Your belly tightens and you know you’re not going to last long.

Harry knows it too, picking up the pace of his tongue and fingers.

“Keep talking,” you beg, not only enjoying the dirty words coming from his mouth, but the way they vibrate into you.

“Bit busy.” He states— and you can almost feel him smirk before his teeth ever so slightly graze over your pussy.

“Fuck.” Your cry, bucking your hips at the sensation of it.

He takes note, and does it again. Eliciting another just as loud moan from you.

“Harry, please—“ your head is begging to fog, every other thought dissipating, only mantras of his name paired with curse words seem to be left.

“Holy shit, Harry.” Your jaw is slack, legs splayed as wide as they can go.

He moans into as you clench around his fingers, and the words ‘good girl’ are muffled into you again.

“Im gonna come— I’m so close.”

He sucks on you with another moan almost as loud as your own— you can help but love how vocal he is—and it feels like it was vibrating your whole body.

With his fingers curling in you he pulls back just enough to draw in a deep breath, “come on darling, that’s it, come around m’tongue.”

“Wanna feel you clench around my fingers before you take m’cock.”

He flicks his tongue fast along your clit, moving it in sync with his fingers and it all comes crashing down.

Your thighs almost cage his head between your legs, and it proves the deep breath was not just for nothing, because there is no way he could breathe right now.

You’re moaning his name as you finish, grinding your cunt against his movements to ride out your high.

As your breathing begins to level out, he pulls his head away with an inhale, and you look to find his mouth glistening.

“That was so… so good.” You whispered to him, body gone completely deadweight on his mattress.

He’s smiling wide with his swollen pink lips, “took my mouth so well.”

You move to sit up, and it’s a true sight to see him on his knees like that.

You pull him by the back of his neck to your lips. No shame in where his mouth just was.

“Can you taste yourself?” He asks, hands going to cup the junction of your neck and jaw.

You hummed in agreement, and you start pulling at the hem of his shirt.

“Off, please?”

“‘Course.” He pulls it over his head, briefly breaking the kiss.

You stare at his chest, and your eyes dip to the symmetrical ferns that highlight his v-line— drawing special attention to the line of hair that starts under his bellybutton, and disappears into the black boxer briefs he’s wearing.

He’s watching your eyes trail along his body, quietly noting the clear effect it has on you.

You reach out a hand, gently brushing it down his abs. Locking your eyes with his, you gauge his reaction as you slide it further down, resting over the top of the hardness in his jeans.

Goosebumps prickle across his arms, and he looks at you with expression filled with pure lust.

“This ok?” You check.

“Yea…” he seems curious, almost unsure of what you plan on doing— yet that excites him all the more.

You brush along the fabric, and he audibly swallows.

A squeeze and he’s already bucking his hips up into your palm.

“Y/N—“ he moans.

“Look at you, I haven’t even touched your bare cock yet and I’ve gotten you all riled up.” You tease, taking a swing in the dark that he likes it as much as you do.

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “stand up so we can take these off.”

He quickly lifts from his knees, hand going to the button of his jeans and slipping them down his legs.

Clad in only his black boxer briefs, you stroke your hand over the fabric again.

“Please, don’t tease me.” He echos your own words from earlier and you chuckle, hooking your hands into his underwear resting on his hips, and tug them down.

His cock springs towards his stomach, and you still completely.

Whatever post-orgasm confidence you’d gained has dissipated immediately.

You knew he’d be big, having felt him hard against you earlier and on those few other occasions. But seeing it in front of you right now has you lost for words.

“Don’t go all shy on me.” He practically pleads.

“Can’t touch me like that and then…” his sentence trails off unfinished, hand twitching near the base of his length.

You take him into your palm carefully. He’s heavy and warm in it.

He moans at the mere contact, and you start to stroke him, thumb swiping over his tip where precum has long since started to seep out.

He’s literally swaying on his feet, “H, sit down.”

You laugh a little as he sits as close as possible to you, connecting your lips when you start moving your hand again.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He whispers against your mouth.

You are careful not to push him too hard, but enough to really get him going.

“Feels s’good— y’bloody hands, could cum all over them.”

“Wanna fuck you first though, s’tha ok?” He asks, hands coming to rest by your hips.

“Yes,” You whine, “wanna make you come in me.”

“God you’ve got a dirty mouth.“ he starts to get up off the bed,

“You getting a condom?”

“Yea, unless you…” he stares at you a moment, cock twitching at the idea of taking you raw.

“I’m clean. If you’re using—“

“I’m on birth control… and I’m clean— haven’t been with anyone since my last test.” you say.

“You sure?” He asks a final time,

You nod, “I trust you.”

He wastes no time settling back next to you, pulling you into a rough kiss.

He slides you up his lap, taking your top off— which had been on for far too long.

He places a kiss on the top of both your breasts before unclipping your bra.

“Not a single flaw on your fuckin’ body.” He sighs, taking in the sight of your bare chest.

He pulls you forward a little more, so you’re chest to chest as he lines himself up with you.

You feel the hard head of his cock slide through your slit and press just into your entrance.

You’re both already panting and Harry looks at you, saying tenderly, “I’ll be careful.”

He’s somehow so hot and so sweet all at the same time. It’s hardly fair that he can be both.

His hands on your hips are lowering you down slowly, and he’s groaning at the feeling of you stretching to fit him.

It’s a bit of an effort to get to the base of him, but fuck once you do, you feel so full.

“Fuck… don’t— don’t move.” His head is spinning, you’re so tight around him that even the slightest movement could have him cumming into you.

It takes you both a moment to ground yourselves, “Sorry— god you’re just so fucking warm and tight… nearly came just getting in you.”

“Can move now, love.” He says, still sounding a little shaky.

You roll you hips gently, and the pleasure of it is overwhelming.

It kickstarts his movements, because after a few more pushes of your hips, he starts to thrust into you.

You’re already trembling, “Harry—”

“You’re a good girl, Y/N, keeping y’promises. Taking me so well.” His praise has you clenching around him.

It’s clear to him how much dirty talk and praise effects you, so he keeps it up.

“Feel good, hm? Like the feeling of my cock stretching you all out like this.”

“Yes!” You cried out, heart thundering in your chest.

“Lettin’ me fuck me so good…”

“Got such a nice little cunt, I want it all to myself now.”

“Have it, Harry— it’s all yours.”

“Sweetheart, you’re too good too me. Gonna make y’feel s’good.” He reaches his hand down to your clit.

He’s fucking your clit with fast circles that feel heavenly paired with the way he’s pushing his cock into you.

Your bouncing into his thrusts, and a heat blooms rapidly in the pit of your stomach.

“Harry! I’m so close, please.”

He moans, “fuck— your cunts clamped ‘round me so tight. Gonna come.

“Come in me, please.” You whined, the thought almost enough to tip you over the edge.

But what really does is the way he grunts “good girl” into your ear a final time.

You both cry out in sync, and it’s euphoric, pure bliss really.

You’re both breathing hard, still spasming and twitching as you feel the pleasure from your orgasms ease off. He slips gently out of you, and lays you into his chest.

“Thank you.” You whisper, feeling exhausted yet so grateful for him.

“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes are closed and he stokes the small of your back, “Five more minutes, then we’ll go clean up and cook some ramen, hm? How’s that sound.”

You smile tiredly, “Sounds good.”

——————

A/N- this has been sitting in my drafts for ages— I’ve reread it that many times idek if it’s that good but decided to post it anywayyy <3 hope you enjoyed!

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harrystyles smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #best friend harry #best friend!harry #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #harrystyles x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #roommates #one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine

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kookslastbutton · 8 months

Note

hii i hope ur well!! just wanna say i absolutely adore ur writing it's so addictive ahaha <33 here's a request i have, if u don't mind: so basically jin and the reader are in a relationship and jin was pretty confident with the relationship at the start, but he feels like after y/n met the other members they spend more time with each other than jin + y/n, and then one day something happens thats just the last straw for him so his jealousy is now visible + a hot make out sesh if u dont mind lmaoo

End of the Line ༓ KSJ (m)

✑ Summary: Your relationship with Seokjin hits a bumpy path when he notices you've been spending more time with his friends than him. It's an understatement to say your boyfriend has had enough of it.

pairing: seokjin x reader

au/genre: fluff, little bit of angst, some crack, suggestive smut, established relationship, drabble

rating: m, 18+

word count: 1,392

warnings: seokjin is jealous and a bit pompous lol, seokjin just wants oc to pay attention to him again 🥺, reference to super tuna bc I couldn't resist, also yeah some crack at first bc its Seokjin, swearing, light fighting, hot make out session as requested, ass gr*pping, manhandling, feat. jhs, myg, & kth

now playing: super tuna

a/n: This was very fun to write anon! 🤩 tysm for your kind words!! It means so much to me 💗 I really hope you like this ☺

You and Seokjin started out as friends—always accompanying the other to weddings, karaoke nights, nature walks, and even fishing trips. It was when Seokjin caught a super tuna on one of his trips to sea that you were beyond proud of him. You didn't hesitate at all to pull out your phone and take a picture of him with his catch.

Seokjin marks it as the day he knew he couldn't just stay friends with you, so he asked you out. It wasn't every day that he'd meet someone who'd get as excited over super tuna as he did after all.

'This tuna will not be released back into the water!' he promised to himself while smiling at the camera with you behind it.

Ever since that day you and Seokjin have been going out as a couple for three months. At first, the two of you were inseparable. You went on multiple dates a week; three at least.

But that all turned upside down when he took the plunge to introduce you to his inner circle, his main guys. Now whenever he asks about your day or your whereabouts you tell him you're out with Namjoon or hanging out with Jimin.

It couldn't be more obvious that you prefer spending time with his friends over him—your boyfriend. Well, he's World Wide Handsome, so whatever this thing is will end today.

Seokjin stands in front of his full-length bedroom mirror, plain white t-shirt, and classic denim jeans. The front pieces of his hair are pushed to either side of his face to make a clean middle part. "This should get her attention." He takes his phone from his pocket and snaps a mirror selfie. "I look damn good today." He sends the photo to you right after.

Seokjin: Having a good hair day, don't you think? [sent an image]

He eagerly waits for your response which typically only takes a few short minutes. But when the time on his phone jumps ahead twenty minutes without a reply, he just knows something's up.

Jagiya 😘: it's nice ❤😊

"Unbeliveable," he scoffs. "That's all you have to say?" Seokjin nearly glares at the screen as he types out a response.

Seokjin: Where are you? I miss you and want to see you 😞

Jagiya 😘: I'm home bby. We can go out if you want??

Seokjin lights up at this. He hasn't been able to see you all week between work schedules and oh yeah...you hanging out with his friends. The last part has him scowling. He's glad you get along with his buds and all but did you have to get so close to all of them?!

Seokjin: yes, come over as soon as you can! We can see a movie or go for lunch 😀

Jagiya: okay, I'll be there in half an hour.

Mission complete. Seokjin slips his phone back into his pocket and combs his slender fingers through his hair.

"Congratulations bro, your girlfriend's yours again!" He gives himself a pat over the shoulder then heads to the living room to wait for you.

When he hears fists pounding on his door he leaps to open it with a big grin plastered on his face.

"Hey hyung!" Seokjin's grin melts when he sees Hoseok, Yoongi, and Taehyung standing in the hallway outside his apartment. You're in between all of them, touching a little too close in his opinion. Seokjin tosses you a 'what the fuck' look instantly.

"Kook, Joon, and Jimin had other plans so they couldn't make it. The rest of us are free though. What movie are we seeing?" You say, oblivious to your error.

Seokjin doesn't reply but clutches your wrist and pulls you towards him, more aggressively than he meant. He then slams the door before the others can walk in.

"Seokjin! What the hell are you doing?" You shake your wrist from out of his grasp, bewildered by his sudden temperament.

"What am I doing? I'm asking you the same thing! I said I wanted to go out with you today, not the peanut gallery!"

"Hey, fuck you man!" On the other side of the door Yoongi cusses. Seokjin pays no attention to it as he's far too concerned with you.

"I'm sorry Jinnie—" you start, realizing he wanted this is be a date. "I ran into the guys on the way over and invited them because I thought we were just hanging out. The more the merrier..."

Seokjin's eyes widen, the vein in his neck slightly protruding. His eyebrows knit together too. "Hang out? Since when do we just hang out? Are you my girlfriend or not?"

"Of course I am—"

"Then why are you bringing them everywhere you go?! This isn't a polyamorous relationship, you know? We used to go out all the time but now I have to compete with five other men plus Jungkook!"

"Jungkook's a man!" Taehyung's baritone voice pipes.

"Shut up Tae, they're fighting in there," Hoseok shushes. "I really think we should leave. I feel odd standing out here."

"I second that," Yoongi turns to head to the elevator at the end of the hall.

"Oh, oh I think they're calming down now." Taehyung has his ear flushed against the apartment door. "I don't hear anything..."

"Yeah?" Hoseok leans his ear to the door too. Yoong watches them from a few feet away, arms crossed—he will not be one to fall into the door when it opens. "You're right," Hoseok speaks again. "It's dead silent in there."

From inside the apartment, Seokjin stares at you with his hands on his hips. His eyes rake up and down your body with a mix of pissed off and turned on. You look exceptionally stunning today, he observes.

"So this is all because you're jealous that I've been hanging out with your friends?"

"Yes, I'm jealous." Seokjin's hands fly up, further expressing his annoyance. "You're always too busy giggling with Jungkook or clinging onto Namjoon's biceps than going out with me, your boyfriend!"

"You are so exaggerating it. I'm just having some fun with them. And I'm not touching Namjoon's biceps so I don't know where that came from. Unless...." you narrow your eyes at the man. "You think they want to sleep with me don't you?"

"Well, why wouldn't they want you? Have you seen yourself?"

You'd be flattered by the compliment if you weren't already fuming at the fact your boyfriend is being so unbelievably unreasonable. "I can't believe you'd say that about your own friends Seokjin!" you say.

"I've known them longer than you have, so trust me. I know what I'm talking about okay?" Seokjin takes a deep breath. "I'm happy you're all friends. I just want to see you more..."

You sigh and walk up to him, hand reaching out to soothe him. "C'mon...we're just platonic. You know I love you right? I'd never do anything like that and they wouldn't either."

"I know. But fuck, you make me so crazy," he huffs and closes the distance with you. Rough hands press on your waist as he pulls you into himself. His plump lips lean down and kiss you with full force.

You let out a muffled whine and thread your fingers through his soft, fluffy hair. "Seokjin-"

He shuts you up with his tongue that pushes into your mouth, licking every crevice he can find. He gives your ass a little squeeze too, before walking you backward and against the couch.

"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?" You pant when you're given a breath.

"No," he says, forcing you to sit down on the soft cushions. "I'm still mad because it seems you've forgotten who your boyfriend is around here and need reminding."

"Oh, wait—" you say when he starts climbing on top of you until you have no choice but to lay on your back. "Shouldn't we deal with them first?" You flick your eyes to the door where the guys were still patiently waiting; eavesdropping more like.

Seokjin traces his thumb on the bottom of your lip with a dangerous smirk. "Well, you're the one who brought them here, didn't you? And they came for a movie, no?"

You slap his chest at his antics. "No, absolutely not. Get off me. I'll tell them to beat it myself."

a/n: hoping this was okay? Lmk 💗

Masterlist

#seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin x reader #seokjin imagine #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts au #bts imagines #fic:endoftheline #kookslastbutton #requests

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randomgoosegame · 7 months

Text

His First

Request - Can you write an senku x fem reader where he has his first time with an older more experienced girl and he's all nervous and cute? (I saw you write smut 👀)

Disclaimers/Warnings - Smut, Tooth rotting fluff, Senku X Teijus sister, older reader (only like a year or two), Senkus first time, secret relationship

You wait on one of the benches outside of the school waiting for your younger brother Teiju. You yawn and slouch agenst the back of the bench tired from the long day starting start of another school year. You were a Junior while Teiju was just starting highschool.

A door opens to your left right when you were stretching. You turn and see your brother walking out the doors with his best friend Senku.

"Teiju lets go already your so slow." You humm and stood up brushing off your uniform.

"Hey Y/N!" Teiju said loudly bounding up to you like a puppy. Senku fallowing more slowly with his finger pressing on his ear.

"How was your first day?" You start shooing him in the direction of your car while he rambles on. Senku walked beside you and brushed your fingers with his while his head was turned away hiding a blush.

There has been a thing going on between you two for about a month and a half now. It started with harmless flirting and suggestive comments between the both of you, but you thought it would never go any further then that.

But then the flirting would leave you both flustered. Soon after started the small touches to Senku's arms or Senku's hand "accidently" brushes your ass.

One night last week you and Senku shared a heated moment when Teiju was out at the store getting what Senku called "brain food". You were straddling Senku's lap while you two were making out heavily.

The three of you reached your car and you unlocked the doors letting the two freshmen climb in the car. You put your seatbelt on and start the car and begin driving to your house.

Teiju talks the whole way there about some girl you forget the name of. You pull into the driveway and everyone climbs out and file into the house.

"Teiju im gonna go take a shower." You take your shoes off at the door and walk around the house picking some small stuff. "Mom said that there is some money on the counter so can you guys go get some snacks and some dinner from the store?"

"Ok Y/N." Teiju says and takes his and Senku's things upstarts presumably to his room. You waisted no time and pounced on Senku and pulled him into a kiss. He hums in surprise but kissed back instantly.

"God I missed you." Senku pulled away first and a string of saliva still connected you two for a moment. You roll your eyes and giggled running your hands up his chest and rest them on his shoulders.

"Its been 3 hours Senku. We litterly sat together at lunch" He just shrugs and pulled you closer by putting his hands on your hips. You kiss him and tangle your hands in his hair. You tug softly on the dule colored locks and he lets out a low moan.

Approaching steps could faintly be herd and you both pull away and gather yourselves just as Teiju came down the stairs. You ran your hand through your hair to shake it out before climbing up the stairs to the bathroom.

Senku watched as your ass bounced with each step and he briefly got a glimpse of your underwear. He blushed and tried to listen to what Teiju was saying.

"So sound good for dinner?" Teiju asked.

"Huh? Oh yeah sounds good." Senku said scratching the back of his neck. Teiju and Senku put their shoes back on and headed to the store and you got in the shower.

By the time the boys had come back you were out of the shower and dressed in shorts that were covered by the large t-shirt you wore. You were sitting at the kitchen island and doing some homework when they entered loudly through the doorway.

"Y/N! We got Ramen for dinner." Teiju bounced around the kitchen putting things away. Senku's trailed on your exposed thighs. His breath cought in his chest as he watched a water drop run down your hairline. It went along the curve of your cheek and neck then disappeared under your shirt. Senku gulped and put the bags he was carrying on the island beside you.

"Great what did you get for snacks?" You place your hands on the counter to hold yourself up trying to peak into the bags. The position pushes your breasts together and haves your shirt ride up exposing your midriff to Senku.

"Youll see later!" Teiju smacked your hand away and you scuff and smack his shoulder.

"Im the oldest so it doesn't matter what you say!" You look into the bags and inspect the goods.

"Senku picked out most of it." Teiju hummed finishing puting the groceries away. You hum and nod slowly, Teiju left the things for dinner out and the two boys left to go upstairs so you could make dinner.

After dinner was made and you all had ate, Teiju and Senku dragged you out of the kitchen to watch a movie with them. Teiju sat between you and Senku much to your dismay. At the end of the movie you headed off to bed claiming you were tired.

"Good night Y/N!" Teiju called out to you as he picked out another movie to watch.

"Dont stay up to late." You ruffled Teiju's hair. As you were walking past to go up the stairs you place a hand on Senku's shoulder and squeezed it softly. You discreetly kissed his cheek and ran upstairs to your room.

An hour later you were awakened by a soft knock on your door. You groan and kick off your blankets. You open the door to reveal Senku in some sweatpants and a t-shirt. You smile at him and open the door more letting him step into your room.

"Is Teiju asleep?" You ask closing the door behind him.

"Im 10 billion percent sure he's asleep." You laugh and climbed back in bed. You patted the space next to you and Senku smiled climbing in.

"Good." You hum. "So, what's up Senku?" You yawn and stretch. Senku watched your shirt ride up and he placed his hand on the exposed flesh.

"Mmm your so hot." Senku hummed and rubbed your skin with his hand.

"Oh really?" You giggled and threw your leg over his so you were straddling his waist. Senku nodded biting his lip and pushing your shirt up more so he had more access to the soft flesh across your stomach.

You slowly lean in and kissed Senku. Senku pulled you closer by your hips and you both deepened the kiss. Your tongue dives into his mouth and you both fight for dominance. Senku eventually gave up the fight and you giggled into the kiss.

Your hips accidently grind agents Senku's when you adjust your hips making you whimper. Senku groaned and pulled away from the kiss. Senku's face was bright red and he looked off to the side hiding his face from you.

"Did i do something wrong Senku?" You frown in worry. His eyes widened and he shook his head rapidly.

"No! I- i just uh erm." Senku's face turned impossibly brighter and he hid his head in his hands.

"Senku?" You pull his hands away. His eyes were closed tightly. You felt something poking your thigh and you look down seeing Senku's erection pressing through his sweatpants. You palmed him softly and he let out a low whine.

"You can tell me Senku." You humm in his ear and felt his body shiver under yours.

"Ive never- you know." He stutters embarrassed and slightly overwhelmed by your hand on his crotch.

"Oh Senku." You smile and shake your head a bit. "Do you wanna stop?"

"Oh god no." He moans and his hips buck up into your hand. You giggle and start trailing kisses along his chin and neck. His hands found their way down to your ass and he squeezed your cheeks in his hands. You moan and squeezed his cock a bit tighter.

"P-please." He whimpered in your ear. You hum and pulled away from his neck.

"Please what?" You bat your eyes at him.

"Please don't make me say it."

"If you don't say it then how am i supposed to know what you want Senku?" You giggled and tilted your head at him.

"D- mph Dont tease me please! I cant." He moaned and you felt him twitch and freeze under your hold.

"S-shit im sorry!" Senkus eyes widened as he apologized profusely. You cut him off by kissing him. You nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip effectively quieting him. You retract your hand from his now soft member and hook your fingers in the waistband of his pants and boxers.

"Its ok Senku, I dont mind." You reassure him and kiss him once again.

"A-are you sure?" He askes looking at your hand on his waistband.

"Yes Senku. Now, do you want to continue?" You asked sternly and looked into his eyes for any discomfort. He nodded his head but you shook yours.

"Use your words Senku." His eyes widend and he swallowed thickly. You watched as his adams apple bob.

"Y-yes please."

"Good boy." You praised and shimmy down his pants. His face flushed and he struggled to help you in his flustered state by taking his shirt off. Once he was free of his confinements you soaked in his naked form. Senku squirmed under your hungry stare and tugged on your shirt hem.

"What do you want this off?" You tease. Senku huffed and rolled his eyes but nodded. You giggled and pulled it off leaving you in your short shorts. Senku's eyes roamed your exposed chest.

He gulped and he went to reach for your brest but froze. You shook your head with a soft laugh and guided his hands to your fleshy mounds. Senku pulled and squeezed at your breasts with a fixation on your perky nipple.

You moan and roll your head back. Senku's dick springed back to life listening to you mewl and moan. He pinched your nipples and felt them harden under his touch. He leaned up and kissed you and kept rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger.

You grind across Senku's member drawing a moan from the both of you. Senku's hands dropped to your hips and he pulled you across his crotch harder and watched you bodies clash. You moaned louder and braced yourself by putting your hands on his chest and pushed Senku back on the bed.

You straiten your body over Senku and you peal your shorts and panties down your legs. Senku watched them trail down and then get thrown across the room. Senku's hands moved to the inside of your thighs and he blushed looking at your vagina.

"Your so pretty Y/N." Senku moaned out and blushed hard. You smile and leaned down pressing a sweet kiss to his swollen lips. You grab a condom from your bedside drawer.

His eyes widened as he watched you tear the raper open with your teeth. Senku's lips parted and he watched you slid the condom on his length.

Senku moaned loudly when you started to sink down along his member. You whimper as you quickly bottomed him out in you. Senku's eyes were tightly closed trying not to cum just from being in you.

You smile at him and brush his hair away from his sweaty brow. He opens his eyes lazily and smiles sweetly up at you. You roll your hips and moan. Senku sucked in a sharp breath while his hands squeeze your thighs hard.

"Ooooh shiit." He sighed and dropped his head to the pillows behind him. You bit your lip watching his expressions and started to slowly raise your hips and drop them against Senkus. You gather up a slow and hard pace enjoying how Senku's brows frown together.

You pick up the speed and roll your hips sharply every time your pelvic bones meet. Senku moaned loudly and you had to put your hand over his mouth to muffle his cries.

"Shhh dont wanna wake Teiju now do we?" You coo in Senku's ear. You nibbled on the shell of his ear then slowly trail your kisses down Senku's neck and chest.

"N-no." He squeaked a bit. Senku bucked up his hips and you moan softly speeding up your movements.

"Your doing so good Senku." You moan in his ear and dive down to kiss him. Senku dragged his tongue across your lip and you opened your mouth allowing him access into your wet cavern.

"I wont last Y/N!" Senku moaned into your mouth as a particular hard drop pushed him dangerously close to the edge.

"Cum for me Senku." You breath and push aside the dull ache in your legs to push yourself to bounce faster on his throbbing member.

Senku grunted loudly and came. His dick was twitching hard and you felt how he grew hotter in you. You moan as your release washed over you in a blanket. Senku whimpered as your walls closed tightly around him.

You collapsed on Senku's chest and try to catch your breath. Your sweaty bodies stuck together as you placed a soft kiss to his chest right were your head laid.

Senku lazily draped his arms across your back. Senku rubbed small circles on your spine. You humm and start to climb off him. Senku groaned softly as you pulled the condom off him and threw it in the trash.

You carefully clean Senku and yourself before climbing back into the bed next to the dule haired boy. Senku watched you as you slid your shirt back over your head.

"Are you ok Senku?" You hum handing him his clothes.

"Yeah, 10 billion percent perfect." He smiles at you and pulled on his boxers and sweatpants. You lay against the pillows and Senku crawls over to you. You smile at him and laugh as Senku buries his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and listen to him breath. Senku soon fell asleep and you were quick to fallow.

#dr stone #senku x reader #senku smut #fanfic #alt universe #fluff and smut #smut #dr stone manga #dr stone anime #dr sone smut

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