#neither of which is remotely finished

[senoleaf]

send help i keep getting distracted finishing up my fics

...

i may or may not have like, seven Gold and Silver (lostmetals and preciousmetals) centered fics started and my brain wants to write another instead of finishing one,,.,.eugh

...

I AM LITERALLY STARING AT MY DOC AS I TYPE THIS hELP

[celestialprincesse]

hi!

could you write a soft (with a hint of spice) story about Simon or Konig where reader is in dire need of getting affection, but doesn’t want to bother them by asking?

please and thank you!! 🫶🫶

Of course I can!! Sorry for letting this gather dust in my ask box!! I keep meaning to go through my asks but I end up getting distracted and yapping!

mdni 🎀 mild nsfw

König doesn't pay you much attention as you sit curled on the worn couch in his office, trying to avoid the springs that dig through the old leather of the cushions, whilst simultaneously trying to get comfortable. At the beginning, the incessant snatching of his rudimentary biro on the obnoxious stack of forms occupying his desk had been soothing. You'd even managed to drift of for a snooze at one point, before being woken up by some sergeant barging into his office. Your positive mood has long since faded. You're hungry, having held out for the promise that he'd take you to your favourite restaurant as soon as he finished filling out his mission reports, said promise having been nearly three hours ago - and the stupid lights of his dingy office have you convinced that you've got a migraine coming on. "Shouldn't a colonel's office be a little nicer than this?" You hum, attempting to catch your boyfriend's attention, an attempt which is promptly thrown back out you when he gives a noncommittal grunt.

You manage to keep occupied with your own thoughts for another ten minutes before you're up on your feet, poring over the books on his shelf in an attempt to find something at least remotely engaging. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's literature is limited to weaponry and maps, neither of which you find particularly intriguing. Eventually you manage to find some dusty biography of some commander with a name you can't even pronounce, settling back on the couch to skim the pages for anything that may be of any possible interest. Unsurprisingly, it comes up naught. For a while, you try to settle with just resting, listening to the rhythmic sound of putting one to paper - a while being five minutes, and then you're at your wits end. König lets out a confused, slightly disgruntled huff as you plop yourself down on his lap, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck with a deep sigh. "Leibe-" He grunts, his pen dropping to the desk as he uses a hand to rub up and down your spine, suddenly sensing your frustration now that he's been ripped from the hyper-focussed state he'd been in. "Been ignoring me all day." You whine, aiming for him to take some pity on you. "You know I didn't mean to, my love." A massive hand stroking through your hair has you practically melting into him as he absently massages the nape of your neck with his strong fingers.

Apparently, having his attention isn't enough, because despite the hand alternating between brushing through your hair and soothing the muscles in his shoulders, you still find yourself grinding down on the sinewy muscle of his denim-clad thigh. "Needy thing." He coos as you rock your cunt back and forth over his tree trunk of a leg, blushing face hidden against his collar. He doesn't mind, of course, not at all. In fact, he gives a helping hand, gently bouncing his leg up and down as your hips cant needily against him, your panties slick soaked and see through as you get yourself off on his leg.

The minute you've finished, he's pressing affectionate, loving kisses to your head and rubbing the taut muscles of your back. "Next time you're bored, schatz, just tell me, hm?"

[icallhimjoey]

now you’re allowed to write again, this is a formal request for the smut pls 🤝🏼😌

okay so, im bringing back bet!joe for you, because part of your brand is privately requesting specific smut, so our double or nothing boy's back with a new bet! (lil tw: it's.... it's right there, in the request, 18+) Wordcount: 2.4K

---

All The Aces

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“You’re wrong.”

He was wrong.

“Am I?” Joe smirked before he threw his head back to catch a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Izzy, please tell him he’s wrong.”

He was so, so wrong.

The flake of popcorn he then threw over that got stuck in your hair went vocally ignored – you just fished it out and threw it back, watched how Joe was chewing an open mouthful of his own, smugly smiling at your bad aim.

That flake landed on the floor about two feet away from him. Izzy picked it up as she walked past, already annoyed with the two of you before she’d even sat down.

Him visibly enjoying her disdain wasn’t exactly helping his case.

“Don’t get me involved in whatever you two do to get each other off.” Izzy commented as she sat down next to you to which you audibly gasped.

You were pressed into the corner of your sofa with a little bowl of crisps balanced on the side – your own one, because neither Joe or Izzy wanted any crisps. They wanted popcorn, so they got to share the big bowl.

With your flatmate slash best friend next to you, your legs pretty much filled out the entire sofa, leaving Joe sit by himself in the armchair and thus placing Izzy in between the two of you, right in line of your crossfire.

“We don’t–” you started, but the dropped jaw you’d had on show for a second too long had prompted Joe to chuck a whole handful of popcorn at you.

None actually made it into your mouth.

“I genuinely don’t need to hear about what does or doesn’t get you off.” Izzy raised her voice slightly as she looked at Joe, telling him off for throwing food. He immediately stopped his laughter and apologised by handing the bowl over to her before he sat back, giving you the opportunity to pick and drop all thrown flakes back into the bowl.

“Just, just take it from me that he’s– you’re wrong.” you urged, and Joe just laughed.

Izzy shook her head as she took a deep breath in through flared nostrils.

Joe took that to mean more than just sheer annoyance at being dragged into whatever childish fight you had going.

“Izzy knows what’s up,” Joe held up a hand, ready to high five her, absolutely willing her refusal to get into this argument with you as an agreement to him being right.

Which, he very much wasn’t.

Izzy ignored him though, left him hanging like a loser, which made you chuckle.

“Will you just, hear me out? Did you hear what he said just now?” you sat up a little, legs crossing in front of you as you turned to Izzy who was now finding whatever she said she wanted to watch on the TV, remote in hand, eyes trained on the screen.

“She did hear me, which is why she won’t.” Joe simply said, leaning back in his chair all relaxed, hands behind his head, legs crossing at the ankles as he placed them on the coffee table.

“No, but, listen. Joe said–”

“I don’t care what Joe said,” Izzy deadpanned. “These lovers quarrels ain’t it. I know you live here so I can’t just kick you out, but…” Izzy’s eyes flicked to Joe, which made him scoff in mock-shock before he let his face turn kind.

Sarcastically kind.

 “No, she’s right. It’s okay. I’m wrong. I’m wrong. I’m just a man, and what do I really know, right? You know, besides the fact that you have like, a billion more nerve endings than we do, which arguably should mean I’m right, just by the science and biology of everything, but, fine. I’ll be wrong if that makes you feel better. I accept my defeat.”

As Joe finished his small monologue, you were both frowning at him - for different reasons.

You, because he was being a little shit.

Izzy, because she was slowly trying to puzzle together what the fuck he was on about.

She then slowly turned her head towards you, eyes squinted in thought, and you sighed as you looked at her. You pretended Joe wasn’t able to hear you when you said, “Maybe you should kick him out, I’m not–”

“It’s 8000.”  She interrupted you sort of casually.

“What?”

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, it’s 8000 nerve endings for you,” Izzy nodded at you, and then turned to Joe to nod at him, “And 4000 for you.”

Joe raised his eyebrows in slight surprise as he smiled, reaching for another hand of popcorn with one hand whilst pointing the other at you.

“See? Double! That’s double the pleasure!”

“What do you mean, see? Like that proves you’re right?”

“Are you forgetting that we’re talking about something I am witness to? You can’t make such wild claims when I literally know how you–”

“Oh, my God. Stop!”

Izzy rapidly turned her head a few times between the two of you, trying to follow along, before she muted the TV and sat back a little.

“All right, I’m too invested now. What the fuck is the problem…”

“She said women don’t care for orgasms.”

“That’s not what I said, you– No, Izzy,” you had to laugh at the vile facial expression she gave you. “That’s not what I said! I said that for me–”

“No, no no. You said for women.” Joe was quick to correct you, wagging a complacent finger at you.

“Sure, yes. Fine. For women, sex isn’t just about the orgasm at the end. Like, that’s not the most important thing. It’s not all about that.”

Izzy’s face dropped as she blinked slowly, and you saw how Joe was studying her face as he did his very best to keep his own laughter inside of his body.

“Don’t you agree there’s so many other things–”

“Shh shh,” Joe held up a hand, “Let her think.”

You obliged with an eye roll.

Joe was wrong.

“I don’t…” Izzy seemed at a fucking loss. What the fuck was this conversation she’d just accepted herself into? It was bad enough that these were sometimes the type of discussions held within your group of friends, wild accusations thrown over a table that you all got far too passionate about. It was a whole other thing to have two of those said friends now together, as a couple, having the debate in Izzy’s living room where the issue was wholly personal and, worst of all, inescapable.

She sighed as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“Sex isn’t just about the orgasm, right?” you tried, speaking softly, praying she’d at least sort of agree with you. You knew she did, but didn’t know if she’s vocalise it in the moment because you also understood she thought you and Joe were being fucking ridiculous.

She just wanted to watch her favourite show on TV.

Have a quiet night in.

And yet, here you were.

Talking about if orgasms mattered or not.

“Oh, then what is it about?” Joe couldn’t help spatting out as he went for another handful of popcorn from the bowl Izzy had now placed on the table in front of him.

“Um,” you sat up more, now borderline sitting on your knees and nearly knocking off the small bowl of crisps behind you, holding both hands up, ready to count on your fingers.

“Foreplay, intimacy, being close, feeling connected–” you saw Joe slump back into his seat, pushing his chin up as he sarcastically nodded at you with squinted eyes and a deep frown.

It was stupid how that made you laugh whilst you also tried your best at raising your voice to make sure he was hearing what you were saying. To convey you weren’t lying. Which, you truly weren’t!

You continued, “Doing a fun activity together, it’s like quality time, isn’t it?” you tried, nudging Izzy, but not waiting for an answer as you quickly carried on with, “The attention, being appreciated– giving appreciation! Learning about each other! All of these things go both ways, Joe, there’s just… there’s so many things.”

You looked at him a second whilst he seemed to think it over. Just when his facial expression seemed to give way with a raised eyebrow and a small cock to the side of his head, you sternly demanded, “Admit you’re wrong.” which was exactly the wrong thing to say.

“I’ll admit those things are nice, sure.”

Joe threw back his handful of popcorn and wiped his hands, giving himself a moment to think of how he was going to phrase what he was about to say.

You and Izzy waited expectantly, both sets of eyes on Joe who seemed far too relaxed for a single guy sat opposite two women, making wild claims that he somehow would know more about sex from a woman’s perspective than they would.

He truly did believe that to be the case, though.

So wrong.

“But, if we’re not crossing the finish line, what’s the point?”

“Did you not listen to the whole list of things I just gave you?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You absolutely are wrong.”

“I’m not only not wrong. I am also, right.”

Izzy, who had been quiet for a bit, stared into the space in front of her as she suddenly loudly scoffed.

“He’s wrong right?” you pushed just slightly, desperately needing your best friend to be on your side for this one.

“Listen,” Izzy started, holding up a hand. “I’ve…” she faltered, and you made eye contact with Joe, a little panicked, a little confused.

What if she was going to tell you that you were wrong?

Oh no.

Best friend betrayal.

If Izzy disagreed with you, she could be an adult about it and pretend, just for the sake of it, that you were right and then tell you about her real feelings later, outside of Joe’s earshot.

Bros before hoes and all that.

“The finish line is important…”

Yes.

You smiled as smugly as you could and saw Joe’s slowly fade.

Izzy was a bro.

Yes.

You could just feel how she was about to side with you on this before she’d even said the words.

“But if it’s between all that she said and just, as you put it, crossing the finish line... she wins. She’s right.”

There.

End of discussion.

You didn’t cheer, or high five your best friend, or point at Joe to shriek at him that he was an idiot. You just accepted Izzy’s answer and gave a small shrug that quietly said, “See?”

Izzy reached for the remote she’d put down, unmuted the TV, and Joe watched as the two of you got comfortable on the sofa together. How you sat back and reached for snacks and laid the throw blankets across your laps just right.

It was a little suspicious how long he stayed quiet, but you knew it would only be a moment for him to try and argue his case once more.

There was no point, you knew, but you also knew Joe had an ego that was fragile, like all men had egos that were fragile.

Male egos couldn’t just take hits like this one, even if he was outnumbered.

You were chewing on a crisp when, from the corner of your eye, you saw Joe’s finger wag from left to right, pointing at the two of you before he spoke.

“You can’t actually be serious…”

“Oh yea.” Izzy didn’t even look at him as she answered, and it was hard to hide your smile. “So serious.”

“So, you’re saying…” Joe sat up, both elbows on his knees, whilst neither of you moved. “You’d rather have sex and not come–”

“Half the time, that’s just life,” Izzy complained, and you both laughed.

Joe didn’t.

Your moment of haha-men-suck that had its feet stuck in truths had you laughing louder when you saw how Joe definitely wasn’t in on the joke.

When Izzy saw, she snapped her head towards you and stage whispered, “Uh oh…” through her giggles.

Joe scooted forward even further and doubled down, “You would rather have sex and not orgasm, than have an orgasm? Is that what you are saying?”

He needed to hear you say it.

“Joe… please accept that you’re wrong and let it rest.” You were very much trying to be the bigger person, which was easy when your friend had just helped you win the argument.

But then Izzy grabbed hold of your arm as she looked at your boyfriend.

“Careful...” she warned alarmingly. “I’ve seen that face before.”

“Tell me you mean that. What I just said. Say that you would rather have sex without an orgasm than one with one...” Joe ignored Izzy, dark eyes locked right onto yours, facial expression made of stone.

“No, that’s not...” you sighed, looked at Izzy, said, “He doesn’t get it.”

“He doesn’t get it.” Izzy echoed.

You were still making fun, unable to stop your giggles.

“Say what you mean, then.” Joe was still leant forward, was still staring you down, all serious and urgent.

“Can we just watch TV now, please?” Izzy interupted, increasing the volume of the TV slightly.

Joe didn’t falter in this weird staring contest he’d started, one you weren’t participating in.

You looked down at your bowl of crisps as you fished out another one.

You bit it in half and saw how Joe grew a little impatient as his eyes followed your hand as you fed yourself.

Then, you finally answered, “Sex isn’t about the orgasm.” And Joe immediately clapped his hands together loudly, making both you and Izzy jump slightly. He seemed incredibly pleased as he sat back in the armchair, rubbing his hands together before he pointed a quick finger at you.

“I’m going to prove you wrong.”

A startled laugh escaped you as you and Izzy shared a look.

“All right, good luck mate.”

This time, it was Joe’s turn to scoff, and that smug little smile from before made its return.

“Won’t need it. You just wait.”

You looked at each other for a moment, and you didn’t trust his confident bearing one bit, but were too stubborn to let your own satisfied smile fade.

“Fine.” you said challengingly.

Joe was wrong.

“Fine.” Joe copied.

So wrong.

---

The Taglisted

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@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

(Full HC)

We've had the M6 bodyswapping with their familiars, we've had the M6 bodyswapping with each other… But what kind of antics would ensue if the M6 had a bodyswapping incident with MC?

The Arcana HCs: When M6 bodyswap with MC

~ anon, you spectacular genius ~

-- to set the scene --

You know you're in a magic-infused dream as soon as you open your eyes. Off to your right, you can see your beloved standing in the open air, staring at the glowing ball of light that hovers in front of them. You're about to remind them of the cardinal magic rule - don't touch the mystery orb - but by the time you call their name, it's too late. Imagine your surprise when you wake up to your own face staring back at you from your pillow!

Julian

He's staring at you in horror because he knew his eyebags were bad but he didn't know they were that bad

You, on the other hand, are experiencing all the physical ailments of a 6'4 human that never remembers to eat and the headache of needing a daily dose of six shots of espresso to function

He's immediately concerned about physical wellbeing and checking both of you over for any signs of injury. Yeah, he doesn't hate magic anymore, but he's still not comfortable with it

Coaches you on how to speak more like him in his voice. His voice is made for DRAMA, MC, you must PROJECT! ENUNCIATE! The people at the back can't hear you!

He's also going to encourage you to wear all of his normal getup. Enjoy wearing multiple layers of leather in a Mediterranean climate, MC, it's all for the *aesthetic*

You, however, have a secret weapon, and that is basic self care

You are going to eat so much nutritious food and drink so much clean water and get so much sleep and sunlight and exercise ...

It's also payback for how much you're sweating right now, because you won't be the one dealing with all the sore muscles later

He gets unbearably flustered when he changes clothes/bathes in your body and won't stop talking about it

Asra

They know exactly what's happened as soon as they wake up and they know it's their fault and they have 0 regrets. none.

Quick to suggest taking a lazy day so you won't have to juggle the shop with this. And then suggests sleeping in immediately after

He's very curious about what it's like to enjoy all kinds of experiences in your body, but he doesn't do anything until he knows you're comfortable with it (including changing)

Gets distracted/sidetracked every time they pass a mirror/window/shiny pot/remotely reflective surface because they like your face and it keeps surprising them to see it reflected back at them

You're about to watch yourself make the weirdest faces into the mirror as they try to document what your face looks like with different expressions

Has the time of his life picking out his outfit (to wear on your body) and watching you pick out yours (to wear on his body)

Pulls out every food item in your kitchen because they want to know if you taste things differently than they do. You're going to wake up with heartburn tomorrow

Might suggest pranking a few friends, but he's generally so averse to conflict that he won't be dead set on the idea

Occasionally taps into your bond, just to ground themself

Nadia

She's going to keep lying still for a moment or two to finish processing what's just happened and decide what she's going to do about it

And then she's going to teasingly tell you that you're welcome to help yourself to her body, and ask if she can help herself to yours

Tells a trusted Palace servant that she is indisposed and that neither of you will be available today (because there's no way she's going to try to swap jobs with you)

You might be tempted to set yourself up in front of a mirror and see if there's any pose or outfit in the world that Nadia can't look elegant in. She'll have a very amusing time watching you

Portia will inevitably hear about her absence and stop by at some point, which will only ramp up the hilarity

Nadia does suggest sneaking out at some point, your body makes for a great disguise and a day on the town sounds fun!

(You still haven't figured out how to tell her that what sets her apart more than her appearance is her bearing. You've never seen your own posture look that good)

Speaking of posture, welcome to life in a body that's excellently cared for! You can stretch in every direction and nothing hurts!

Though this much thick hair is heavy and hot

Muriel

Oh, he knows before he opens his eyes that something's off, because the furs feel unusually heavy over him and he's never shared a bed with anything bigger than he is

Speaking of, he had no idea that his body radiated that much heat. It's like lying next to a furnace (and it's more comforting than he expected. maybe you're onto something with all the snuggling)

He's violently uncomfortable with being in your body, mostly because he's assuming you'd like it back, and he doesn't want to do anything with it that you don't want him to

You, on the other hand, spend a day as the pilot of a body with unusual size and strength. You're going to have to be reeeeally careful not accidentally bump your head/break and tear stuff

What you choose to do with that is entirely up to you (and up to your body's capacity to contain Muriel's embarrassed blush)

Have fun flexing and watching yourself turn beet red

He is going to request that the two of you stay in the woods and out of sight, which certainly makes things easier

He's also going to apologize to you because he knows this was his fault (you'll have to convince him that being in his body is not a miserable experience, which he may have a hard time believing)

Inanna will be wolf-laughing at both of you the whole time

Portia

She woke up first and put two and two together. By the time you open your eyes, your face is staring back at you with this specific expression: >:3

Also, your body is buzzing (and I mean, buzzing) with energy. You feel like you could climb a mountain and still have the capacity to chop down at least 20 trees. Oh, and your hands are tiny

It's going to take a second for her to get used to your body, if only because she keeps stopping at every new movement/sensation to comment on it/experiment with it/tease you about it

As soon as you've had breakfast, she's taking the day off and dragging you into town for some good old-fashioned mischief

Because yeah, she just woke up in one of the most powerful magician's bodies in the world, she fully plans on taking advantage of that. Who wouldn't??

Long story short, your day is going to consist of running after her while she comments on your "low energy levels" (they're not low, they're human) and wreaks havoc with your magical capacity

The fountain in the town square spouts glowing orange water for a week after she passes through. Even she isn't sure how she did it, so you just have to wait it out and hope it won't poison anyone

Mazelinka saw you two at one point and cried laughing

Lucio

It takes him a while to figure out what's happened

Don't misread this as him assuming that things are normal. He knows things are not normal, because he's getting human sensations from his left arm

But his first assumption is that this is because his arm magically grew back in the night, and his second assumption when he sees his own body next to him is that he's been cloned

You wake up because he's frantically calling your name, asking why his voice sounds so weird and if you had to clone him as part of getting his human arm back and where you've disappeared to

Shrieks and falls backwards off the bed when his clone's eyes open and you tell him what's happened from his own body

You, on the other hand, are going to spend all day figuring out how to function with a metal arm. It's nowhere near as easy as he makes it look, plus it makes that whole side of your body cold

Lucio insists on doing your eyeliner (on his face) because yes, he loves you, and yes, he trusts you, but that's his signature look and he needs it to be perfect

And then you're going to accidentally ruin his face anyways when you go to scratch an itch, forgetting about the claws on his hand

It's nothing compared to his attempts to use your magic

[deactivated072320241242]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . two girls with a pure heart and the will to do the best things in the world, but forced to do the one they would never dream of doing.

warnings . red room, suicidal thoughts (lmk if i have to add more.)

notes . i'm sick, got a really bad flu — and those are somehow the only times i get inspiration to write (also when depressed <3) this one goes through red room era, so both Nat and reader are little. english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors.

divider credits: @iwonbin, @iluvrei

your 'parents' had left. they went to the store, so the house was all yours. Natasha was curled up on the corner of the couch, watching intently the movie playing on the television screen. her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes narrowing at the screen. you could tell she wasn't watching the movie. she was paying attention to the actors performance, how they expressed their emotion, how they behaved in front of the cameras.

"you'd want to be an actress?" you ask softly, making her jump slightly, breaking her trance.

"maybe." she simply replies, shrugging her shoulders. she sighs and leans back against the backrest, grabbing the remote and fidgeting with it. "you?"

"i think it would be fun." you giggle, eyebrows raising as a bunch of little scenarios played on your head. "not necessarily a movie star. just.. be able to show people how i actually feel, you know?"

Natasha hums, a small smile tugging on her lips. it was the one job that was the complete opposite from your daily life — that was what being a spy was like, hide your emotions, hide from people, hide hide hide. from everything. absolutely no one knew you — neither you did, since you had to change identities every year or so.

"i think, you could do absolutely anything you ever want to do." she says, pointing her finger at you. "if you become an actress, i will be in your every premiere, watch all your interviews, and be the first one to buy the tickets for your movies,"

you laugh, playfully slapping her finger away. "you smartass,"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

silence filled the house as everybody went to sleep, except for you and Natasha, of course. you always stayed awake late, even if one of the rules was go to sleep at 8:30pm. you both jumped out of bed quietly and hurried to open the blinds, so you could see the starry sky.

"do they really think we're asleep?" you inquire with a smirk, sitting down on the cold tile floor and patting the space between your legs.

Natasha sits down with you and carefully leans her weight against you, her head on your chest. "if you keep shouting like that they might figure it out."

you shake your head at her sarcasm and chuckle. your eyes drift to her hair, the pink strands illuminated by the moonlight. you carefully grab a few of them and begin braiding them. "when are you going to Ohio?"

and when she was about to relax, you ask the most inconvenient question in the most inconvenient time. why did you have to bring up that? Ohio was not a mission like this one — she'd meet other widows, future widows, you weren't gonna be there. and she didn't want to be away from you.

you notice how she stays silent, and decide not to push. you finish the two little braids on her short hair and coaxes her head back to your chest, arms wrapping around her.

"do you think," Natasha begins, quietly, as if this was a topic she'd like to avoid. she gulps, eyes locked on the twinkling stars. "do you think we would be happier if we weren't here?"

the question wasn't direct, but you understood perfectly. being a normal girl meant never being in the red room, which meant never meeting each other. that was a tough one, but the answer was obvious.

"yeah," you nod, shrugging, pondering. "you know, Natalia? i think that even if we were born in different families, somehow the universe would find a way for us to meet."

she smiles, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. something rare. something that didn't happen often. it quickly faded, but she appreciated that. "i hope so. because right now? i'd throw myself down this window if i could."

"so would i," you chuckle humorlessly. the life of a widow would never end up with joy, you both knew what you were submitted to.

she shifts her body, pulling her head back a little to look in your eyes. she didn't have to speak for you to understand. gratitude, longing, pain. "moya malenkaya zvezdochka, (my little star),"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"we're leaving!" you yell, a smile on your face as you watched Natasha finish adjusting her white dress. she wore black chucks and her hair was down. out of every style she ever played, this was the one you most liked. dresses.

"where are you going?" your 'mom' asks, her smile widening as she sees her daughters all dressed up.

"just riding our bikes!" you answer, putting your hair up on a ponytail and putting your shoes on. "we're not going too far, promise!"

"okay! come back before five!" the woman answers as you run out of the house, grabbing your bikes and hopping on them.

"—back before five," Natasha mimicks her with a silly face and a high pitched voice, coaxing a laugh out of you. "we know mom. you tell us that every freaking day."

and with that, you both go pedalling to downtown, which was yes, a little too far from home. Italy was very beautiful, sunny, full of joyful people around. sometimes you hated that. Natasha suddenly stops as you pass through a little flower shop. it was tiny, and the grandpa behind the counter seemed kind.

"would Natalia like to receive a flower bouquet today?" you try a rough voice, which made her laugh. you hop out of the bike and run in the store.

"ciao, bambina! (hi, little one!)" the man exclaims, his happiness almost surprising you.

"hey!" you match his good humor and point at a colorful bouquet on a basket. "how much for these?"

"these are 50 euros, but for you, young lady, i can make.. 49!" he laughs, grabbing the bouquet and carefully handing it to you.

you raise an eyebrow at the joke, grabbing the coins from your pocket and placing them on the counter. after he counts everything, you don't even say goodbye before running to Natasha again.

"here you go, malyshka, (sweetheart)," you politely bow and hand her the flowers, feigning chivalry. it seemed stupid, but her smile seemed way too genuine for your liking.

she grabs the bouquet and smell the flowers, a small tear runs down her cheek, which she quickly wipes away. "thank you,"

you nod, a little heat creeping up your cheeks. you would never receive flowers, neither from a romantic partner, nor a relative — that was for sure, so you did it, even if it wasn't real.

oh, how much she wanted to say the three forbidden words right now.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

it was raining, heavily.

the time was approaching. the time..

the time for the Sicily mission was almost over. general Dreykov, along with his soldiers would soon be there to retreat you, just like the police. it was always like that.

"come on!" Natasha calls, extending her hand for you as she steps out of the house. "we got to go,"

"gonna get a cold, Natalia," you laugh, grabbing her hand and stepping out as well. you immediately got drenched in water, shivering from the coldness.

"are you scared?" she mocks, shaking her head.

pink droplets of pink hair dye fell down the concrete ground, a colorful contrast of what it used to be. her hair would soon be blue. you didn't like that.

"where are we going?" you ask, running with Natasha as she took off the yard, leaving the household.

"anywhere," she yells back to you, running across the sidewalk, as you followed behind. you rolled your eyes slightly, shrugging.

as you ran, the cacophony of the city could soon be heard. probably your parents would realize you weren't home and call the cops or something. but that didn't matter. not when you were both trained spies. you found a small park — which was empty due the rain — and sat on one of the benches.

"i don't know if we'll meet again after this," you say quietly, finger traveling upwards to tuck a strand of pink behind her ear. "you're going to America. i'm returning to Asia. and the chance of us being paired up again is so small—"

"i love you," she interrupts, voice weak and almost tired. "gosh, i always wanted to tell you that."

your eyes widen, a mixture of foreign emotions filling your being at her confession. "i love you, too,"

"when we grow up, i'll marry you." she smiles, scooting closer. "and we'll live a happy life. we'll have a picket fence and a birdhouse. we'll have a cat and a dog and probably adopt a kid,"

tears run down your cheeks, blending with the rain droplets. you nod, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck, a hug she quickly returned.

"chertovski nespravedlivyy mir, (goddamn unfair world,)" you murmur against her skin, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"it is," she agrees, placing her palm on your cheek. "it's ironic. i'm glad you're here with me. but i don't want you to. i don't want either of us to be here."

"but we are," you whisper, taking a quick glance to the people around, seeing their gaze almost burning you. "that's how life is, i guess."

and with that, you and Natasha lost each other — having to cling to the memories, to the small comfort they brought.

because a widow never had a happy ending.

to be continued..?

[lightsofthe-living-gvf]

Eucalyptus

18+ minors DNI

Sam Kiszka/Reader

Summary: A movie night with Sam takes a pleasant turn.

Warnings: smut, dare I say porn with plot? koalas and koala facts mentioned but not in like a weird way I just feel it needs a warning, moving on… unprotected penetrative sex (don’t do that!), dom/sub undertones, Sam has a praise kink, he’s also quite needy (have y’all noticed a trend yet), a tiny bit of overstimulation, dirty talk-ish things, teasing, marking, pet names, let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Hello, all! Thanks for tuning in! I thought since Sam’s birthday is coming up, I’d post a fic I’ve been working on for what feels like forever. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

It was Sam's turn to choose the movie that night. He made sure you knew it, too, with a sing-song reminder as you both made your way into the living room, pillows and blankets from your bed bunched up in your arms. You situated yourselves on the couch after an unnecessarily tumultuous few minutes, during which you'd managed to be only centimeters from driving your knee into the small of his back and he'd accidentally jabbed one of his bony elbows into the soft part of your side. He had also totally crushed your fingers beneath that same elbow and when you told him he had better watch it, he defended himself vehemently, claiming that your fingers "crushed themselves, why would you put them under my elbow?" Eventually, you wound up on your back with Sam at your side, his head on your shoulder and your arms tangled together across your torsos.

"Sammy," you murmured, as a harrowing--and kind of humorous--realization set in.

"Hm?"

"We forgot to grab the remote..."

"What? You think I'm gonna get it?"

He huffed and nuzzled further into the warm skin of your neck, as if he were trying to ignore the consequences of you both having forgotten the damned T.V remote... Those consequences being that one of you was going to have to move out of your comfy, cozy position to retrieve it. And you knew--fully well--that Sam would not be moving from his spot until the credits of whatever movie he chose were rolling. So, it was up to you.

Still, you decided to press his buttons a little. "Could you...?"

"Pfft- you're dreaming. And you're closer," his reply came an adorable snark, muffled into your skin.

With a giggle, you shimmied over to the edge of the couch and ignored the pouty look Sam shot in your direction, as if it were your fault the remote was still on the coffee table. You stretched your arm out and in what was an amazing feat of strength and balance, managed to grab the remote without tumbling to the floor. When you returned to your spot, Sam latched onto you, pulling you back into his arms. The act made your heart swell with adoration, and you couldn't help but to let out a quiet, fond laugh.

"What?" Sam sounded softly.

"It's nothing, Sammy. I love you."

He popped his head up and looked at you with narrowed eyes. "No, no, what is it?"

"Nothing!"

"Y/N, I swear if you don't tell me--"

"Alright, alright! It's just--" you couldn't even finish, you cut yourself off with another laugh.

"Babyyy,"

"It's just- I love it when you get so cuddly. You're like... a little koala bear."

"A koala?"

"Yeah!"

He made a face. "Koalas are kinda ugly." Then, he gasped in mock-offense, "Do you think I'm ugly?"

"No, Sam!" you laughed. "They're not ugly, and neither are you."

"I mean, they're pretty ugly."

"No, they're not! They're cute!"

You and Sam spent the next few minutes looking at 'ugly koala pictures'--as he had typed into the search bar on his phone--and you had to admit it: koala bears could be pretty foul-looking sometimes.

"So," Sam said after he'd finished proving his point and set his phone on the side table. "If I'm a koala, what does that make you? My tree?"

"Oh, so you're fine with being a koala, now?"

"Yeah, as long as you're like, my eucalyptus tree, or something."

You raised your brows in amusement. "Why do I have to be a tree?"

"Well, what else are you gonna be?"

"I don't know, maybe you koala-girlfriend?"

"Nah," he shook his head with a playful grin. "I like you better as a tree."

You poked a finger into the ticklish spot on his side, just to see him squirm. "What's that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Whatever you want it to mean, my darling eucalyptus tree. Will you pass me the remote?"

With a roll of your eyes, you dropped the remote on his chest. "What do you wanna watch?"

Moments later, a koala bear documentary popped up on the television screen.

"You think you can stay awake for a whole documentary?" you prodded, and Sam gave an annoyed huff.

"I'm not gonna fall asleep."

You knew that Sam was definitely going to fall asleep. Something about watching a movie--especially at night--always put him right out. Maybe, it was the coziness of the soft lamplight and the plush couch cushions. Or maybe, it was just being snuggled up together. It didn't matter and besides, you'd never tire of turning off whatever old, corny movie he had put on and watching your show while he dozed soundly in your arms.

"Whatever you say, koala boy."

He grumbled rather cutely for a few seconds--things like, "I'm not gonna fall asleep this time" and "that's not even a cute nickname"--before settling at your side once again with a few gentle kisses to the side of your neck. You let one of your hands move upwards and into his soft hair to rub delicately at his scalp and smiles when he voiced his appreciation with a hum.

Though you wouldn't ever admit it to Sam, the koala bear documentary was actually pretty engaging. You learned things that you never would've known about the not-so-adorable marsupial you compared your boyfriend to, such as the fact that the majority of them have chlamydia. Did you really need to know that? Probably not.

The documentary was a little more than half-way through when you began to assume that your Sammy had fallen asleep. You hadn't heard a single word from him, not even when the narrator revealed that koala bears have incredibly small brains, and you were sure that if he were awake, he would have some more words about being called a koala. You decided to leave the documentary on, anyway, as grossly informative as it was. Maybe, you could fall asleep to the drone of the narrator's voice, too.

And, you were just beginning to feel drowsy when Sam shifted from where he had pressed himself into your side and jolted you from your spot. You resituated yourself, snuggling in close to him and resting your cheek comfortably against the top of his head. Then, he moved again, and in turn, moved you again.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry," came his murmured reply.

"Do you want me to scoot over or something?"

He shook his head, then tightened his arms around your waist. You felt yourself beginning to relax in his hold once again, and you were so so sure you were going to doze off. Until he squirmed again, that is.

You pushed yourself up and out of his arms with an annoyed huff, "Sam, what--"

That's when you felt the brush of his cock against your thigh, half-hard and just beginning to strain against the flimsy fabric of his shorts. His brows furrowed upwards just a touch and he made a sound so pretty and so soft you almost didn't hear it. At once, your body warmed with arousal.

"Oh," you sounded, smirking a little as you watched a flush color Sam's cheeks. "What's got you all worked up, baby? It wasn't the koala thing, was it?"

"No, you sicko! Just--" he huffed. "--touch me?"

You sat up straighter, then let your hand rest on Sam's collarbone for a moment, before dragging your fingertips downwards. You moved leisurely and kept the pressure feather-light, until you reached the delightfully exposed skin of his hip. Then, toyed with the waistband of his shorts and he bucked his hips upwards, as if to plead with you. So, you tore your hand away.

"Come on, baby," he whined. "Don't tease."

"Don't whine," you countered with a chuckle. "I've hardly even touched you."

"That's the fucking problem..." he muttered.

You rolled your eyes at his complaining. It was useless, really. He always got whatever he wanted.

Sam opened his mouth to complain even further, so you surged forward and captured his lips in a kiss before he had the chance to actually get any words out. He reached up and held your face in the palm of his hands and when he deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head, you had no choice but to follow. You basked in the moment, melting against the warmth of his fingers on your cheeks and the sweetness of his lips on yours. Sam always kissed you like he needed you; he breathed in every drift of you essence and left nothing behind.

When he broke away with a quiet gasp for air, you took the chance to slip your hands beneath his shirt and smooth them up his chest. His skin was soft and a little warm and completely addicting. You wanted to take your time and kiss every inch of it, but you knew that Sam wouldn't have the patience for that. So, you raked your blunt nails down his side and watched him shudder, just to give yourself a little rush of satisfaction.

With grabby hands, Sam tugged at your waist until you were seated in his lap.

"You're so lovely, Sammy. The sweetest man I know and the prettiest thing I've ever seen," praise feathered unrestrained from your lips. He was so lovely, and outstandingly so when he was looking up at you with sweet eyes and lips just a little swollen and parted slightly. You wanted to snap a thousand pictures of that very moment and hoard every single one of them like gold stolen from the sea.

And it just came so naturally to you to praise him. It was damn-near impossible not to voice the thoughts whenever they made themselves known. He soaked it in, too; he never denied any of what you said and always put a little quirk to his brow that said tell me more, please, if you were to see fit. And, of course, you would always acquiesce to his desire. How could you ever deny him, anyway?

"Thank you," he returned in a whisper, giving your hips a little squeeze.

"How often do you think I tell you that?"

"Every day, maybe," he answered with a shrug. "Don't stop, though."

You giggled, "I won't. Couldn't if I tried, actually."

He connected your lips again, before moving downwards and pressing soft, urgent kisses to the skin of your jaw and throat. You tilted your head, giving his lips more flesh to rove over and then, you selfishly tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him from moving from where you wanted him. He was quick to make his way to your collar bones, kissing and nipping and tugging at your top to reveal more skin to his wandering lips.

"Lemme take this off," he huffed, adorably displeased with the fact that your shirt--his shirt, actually; you'd stolen it from the dryer--was hindering him from getting what he wanted. The moment you nodded in affirmation, he tugged the garment over your head and tossed it aside. He then continued his work with an pleased hum and a playful bite to the skin just above your breast. He had always liked to mark you up a little; you didn't mind.

Before Sam could get much further than that, however, you took his face in your hand and created a distance between his lips and your chest. You slanted his chin and guided him to look at you. He stuck that plush bottom lip of his out and you chuckled. Truthfully, seeing him pout just because he couldn't kiss you was flattering, and it went straight to your head.

You spoke with a sultry edge to your tone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Sam's ear as you did, "So, really... What's got you all needy, sweet boy?"

"You just look so pretty," he said softly, his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. "And you're wearing my shirt, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know." You punctuated your words with a kiss to his jaw. "Do you think it looks good on me?"

"So good," he agreed, still with that pouty look on his face, as if he were trying to garner your pity, or something- how cute. "It looks better on you than it does on me."

Sam's hands began to roam, then, grabbing at your hips and your thighs and pulling you so close you might have been able to feel his heartbeat if you were to sit still enough. He blinked up at you as he voiced a request, his eyes so sweet you nearly lost your sense of control. "Ride me."

You were tempted to just take him right then and there. It would be so easy to just free his cock from his shorts, slip your panties to the side, and-- No. You forced yourself to take a steadying breath. If there was anything you loved more than indulging Sam, it was making him beg a little. You wanted to tease him some, you wanted to dangle his treat in front of his face and yank it out of reach when his fingers got too close, just to hear him whine like a spoiled brat.

"Hm," you said, dropping your fingers from his face and crossing your arms over your chest. "Ask me nicely, first."

He let out a displeased huff that had you biting back a smirk. "Please, ride me?"

"You just want me to do all the work, don't you?"

"Come on, baby," he complained. His fingers tightening their hold on you, and petulantly so. "You know I could flip you over and fuck you, right now. And you know you wouldn't have to lift a damn finger."

"Why are you asking me to ride you, then?"

He gave an over-exaggerated groan of frustration and kissed you again. After a few moments, you pulled away to speak, "It's okay, Sammy. I know it's just because you're a little pillow princess who likes being treated."

His cheeks colored and his mouth dropped open in faux-offense. "I am not!"

You laughed. "I'm not saying it like it's a bad thing." You pressed a kiss to his chin, then another to the corner of his mouth, as if to make up for your words. You weren't sorry, though, not truly. You continued on, "I love when you get all pretty and willing for me."

His eyes went a little moony then, but he didn't reply. A rush of desire swelled in your stomach, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him: under your thumb and desperate to come, though you'd barely just started.

You chose then to reach up and unclasp your bra. Sam watched with a bitten lip as you slid the straps from your shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. Your fingers were at his waistband, next, and you were motioning for him to lift his hips and shoving his shorts down his thighs. His cock sprang free almost instantly, apparently unrestrained by anything other by the silken fabric of his bottoms. You glanced up at him with a quirked brow.

"No underwear?"

"Nah, why would I need it?"

You laughed a little as you brought your hand downwards, your fingers appreciatively stroking the skin of his inner thigh. He was so, so soft there, and the thought of leaning down and nipping at that flesh until he squirmed briefly crossed your mind. If he wasn't already so impatient, you would have. But you knew that it would be cruel to prolong his wait much further.

So, you lifted your hand back up, slowly and lightly dragging the pad of your thumb along the length of his shaft. You stopped once you reached the head, rubbing at the velvet-like skin beneath the swell for just a moment before pulling away. You were going to give him what he wanted soon enough, anyway, so why not make him just a little more desperate? In response, Sam bucked his hips and sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath.

"Stop being mean," he voiced, whiny and alluringly desolate. "I'm so hard it hurts."

"Awe, baby, I know," you cooed, rubbing at his hip as soothingly as you could while also not making any move to give him what he needed. "You've been so patient, haven't you?" He nodded at you, and you could feel your panties grow damp as you praised him, "That's right, Sammy. You've been so good for me."

He whimpered, holding your cheeks in the palms of his hands and kissing the noise right into your mouth. Those hands didn't stay still for long, however; they never did. He let them roam your body, reminding himself of every curve and revisiting the spots that made you shiver. Though a little distracted by his fervent lips and hands, you reached down and pulled your panties to the side.

"Before I sit on that lovely, needy cock of yours, I want you to tell me what you are." It wasn't a question, it was a demand, spoken with a voice as desperate as Sam's as you shifted your hips and ground your core softly against his shaft.

He laughed, shaking off his poutiness for just a moment. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Tell me," you reiterated firmly, rolling your hips once more.

"Fuck-" he huffed, his brows tipping upwards. "I'm a pillow princess- no, yours. Your princess."

"Good," you lauded, pleased with his response. And as a reward, you raised your hips and finally sank down on his cock.

His reaction was instant: a sweet moan as he tossed his head back onto the arm of the couch. You worked up to a steady pace rather quickly; no longer could you make Sam or yourself wait. His hands found their rightful place on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh their, all desperate and rough. You reveled in the sting of the pressure.

"Fuck, baby- that's it," he sputtered with a gasp.

"Yeah?" you implored with a sharp pant, your fingers grasping his chin and tilting his head so that you were facing each other. When he gazed at you with those eyes as sweet as caramel candy, you could feel your core give a pathetic throb. Why did he have to look at you like that? Like you'd hung the moon and painted the stars and breathed life into the sun? To keep yourself from faltering over the rush of adoration you felt for your lover, you continued on, "Tell me about it, sweet boy. I wanna know just how good I'm making you feel."

"Feels so fucking good. You're so tight- and soft. So soft and warm. Like-" he cut himself off with a sob as you began to move your hips at a punishing pace. You couldn't fucking take it, anymore. You needed to make him come, perhaps more than you even wanted to come yourself. He began to moan in earnest, then, depraved sounds broken by curses and sharp intakes of breath.

You knew he had to be close. He was shaking and he couldn't even keep his eyes open, even as you planted your palm at the base of his throat and requested he keep his gaze on you. And his cheeks were so red, too- Fuck, you were close, you could feel it rising inside of you sooner than you would have expected it. Well, you supposed you should've expected it. Sam just had that unbelievable, irreversible effect on you.

"I need-" he panted brokenly, his hands moving to claw at your ass and pull you in closer. "Harder, sweetheart. Please- need it harder."

Without a word, you complied, rising and falling and grinding with an increased force. Your thighs were burning and you knew your skin had a sheen of sweat, but it didn't matter. The only thing you could think about was Sam: the warmth of his fingers on your skin, the debauched sounds tumbling from his lips, and the furrow of his brow as he came with hardly any warning.

The sensation of it warmed you to your core, and your slowed your heavy movements to just slow, steady rolls of your hips, aiming to hit that electric spot deep inside. You knew you weren't going to last much longer- he fit you so well. Every pronounced ridge of his pretty cock rubbed against your walls so pleasingly that it was enough to drive you mad.

"You were fucking made for this," you voiced raggedly. "Made for me."

"Uh-huh," he whined in agreement.

You moaned, your head falling forward as warm sparks began to shoot up your spine and dance along the tips of your fingers and your toes. "I'm so close."

"Come, baby. Need it- it's too much, please."

"Get me there, Sammy," you urged brokenly.

Sam's fingers tightened around you with a force, then, as he flexed his thighs and plunged into you. He looked like the most divine picture of beauty beneath you, with his hair all strewn about and his lips parted ever so slightly. It was that, alongside his sweet pleas, that made you come undone with a gasp and a curse.

You worked yourself through it, slowly and surely coming to a stop. Your breath was coming in heaves; you couldn't help it. You noticed that Sam's fingers had ceased up on their relentless hold, and were instead lovingly stroking at your hips.

"That was so good, baby," he murmured. "Always so good."

With a flush on your cheeks, you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to his plush lips. When you parted, you replied, "So are you, my love."

Smiling, Sam glanced over to the television, only for his brows to furrow. "What the fuck?"

"What?" you pulled away, confused.

"That stupid koala documentary is still going!"

You looked over and sure enough, the koala bear documentary was still playing, and seemed to be nowhere near its end. You smirked. "Do you wanna finish it?"

"Nope," Sam replied with a pop on the 'p', sitting up and jostling you from where you were still sat in his lap. "I just put that on so I could fall asleep."

"I knew it!"

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

I keep thinking about fluff/smut where, for once, Pedro Pascal is the one crushing on (fem) reader- don’t get me wrong, I love all the daddy dom vibes, but him catching feelings for a funny/sweet younger woman and getting all flustered about it?

Maybe a mid-late 20-something year old, someone who is a friend of a friend or an extra on set~ I just think as flirty and charming as he is, he’d be one to get as red as a tomato around his little crush <3

What do you think? I’d love to hear your take!

Okay, so first, sorry it took me so long to respond, I saw this ask and I got an Idea™ and I had to run with it because why not? Second, I hope you like what I came up with as an answer, I tried. So here it is:

Ask Her

Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: I haven't written anything in forever, I'm still suffering from Writer's Block so go easy on me. Also it's not proofread and it's 6:40 in the morning so any mistakes are my bad. Special thanks to @ziggyrocket for the support 💜.

Warnings: None

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the third time that day that you felt his eyes on you, and when you turned around to look at him, you saw him look away quickly.

Next to him, Bella, rolled their eyes. "You know you could just go over and talk to her," they pointed out.

He shook his head. "And say what?"

"Umm how about 'Hi, how are you? How’s your day going?’ to start with."

“Right and then what?”

“Then you have a conversation like a normal person…” Nico chimed in from his other side.

“And eventually ask her out,” Bella finished, “because this whole staring and then looking away thing is ridiculous.”

“Yeah and you clearly like her,” Nico added.

Pedro averted his eyes and looked down at his phone in his hands, clearly not wanting to admit to anything. 

Nico and Bella exchanged glances over his head and with a mischievous glint in their eye, Bella gasped, “Oh, she’s looking over here!”

Pedro’s head shot up, his cheeks turning a bright red, as he looked over to where you were; but you were deep in conversation with one of the other make-up artists, not even remotely looking that way.. Nico and Bella snickered at him. He sighed and shook his head at them.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Bella said, “I was just proving our point.”

Nico nodded. “Eventually, you’re gonna have to talk to her.”

As fate would have it, “eventually” came sooner than expected. Later that week, you were assigned to do his make-up, since the artist that regularly did it was out for the day. So, when Pedro walked in and saw you standing there, he stopped abruptly and just stared for a second. You didn’t notice at first, since your back was turned, but when you looked into the mirror and saw him standing there, looking at you, you smiled wide and turned around.

“Hi.”

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He then cleared his throat. “Hi,” he managed to get out. “Um, where’s…?”

“She had something she had to do, family I think, so you have me today,” you answer, “I promise, you’re in good hands.” You gave him another smile and gestured for him to sit in the chair. 

He sat and you began carefully applying his make-up. At first you worked in silence, neither of you sure of what to say. 

You had felt his eyes on you from the moment you walked on set. You weren’t so sure that it meant anything in the beginning. You were, after all, just a lowly make-up artist, not even the primary one, why would someone like him even look twice at you? But as time went on, you started to notice it more and more. It really hit you when, one day, you were touching up Nico’s make-up and she casually joked that he seemed to perk up more when you were around. 

“He smiles more,” she’d said, “it’s almost like he’s had an extra strong cup of coffee.”

“Mind you,” Gabriel had chimed in, “he doesn’t really need it.”

You all laughed. Pedro’s hyperactivity was well known. Which made his current silence a bit odd. 

He’s nervous, you thought.

He cleared his throat again, bringing you back to the present. You figured that you might as well strike up some kind of conversation. Funnily enough, he had the same thought.

“So…” you both began at the same time. Then you stopped. You looked at him and you both burst into laughter.

“You go ahead,” you said.

He shook his head. “Nah, you go.”

“Gentlemen first,” you commented with a smirk.

He laughed at that, then asked, “What are you listening to?”

“Huh?” you touched the earbud you had in your ear that was playing a song softly. “Oh, just some music to wake me up.”

He raised his eyebrows and gestured with his hand for you to explain more. 

“Prince,” you said simply, “Raspberry Beret.”

He smiled wide at that. “Love that song.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Hmm, okay,” you said, and put the brush and powder you had in your hand down on the table behind you. 

You went over to your bag and dug around in it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Normally,” you began, “I just keep my earbuds in, because I know not everyone likes the same music I do… aha,” you said triumphantly as you pulled out your mini bluetooth speaker, “but when I’m  alone, I use this.”

You turned on the speaker and set it on the table, then connected your phone. Soon the beat began and you both sang along.  “I was working part-time in a five and dime, my boss was Mr. McGee…”

You picked up your brush again and started back on his make-up, your head bopping along to the song.

After that, it seemed like the ice had been broken. He started asking you more questions: where you from, how long you had been doing make-up, favorite color, etc. You answered all of them with ease, and asked him more questions in return.

Before you knew it, you were finished. “All right, all done,” you announced. 

“That was quick,” he said. In truth, you had taken a little bit longer than you normally would have, you just wanted to spend a bit more time with him. “Um, I guess I better get going…”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you said, as you put away the brushes and other things. You both were shy again.

“I’ll, um, I’ll see you out there,” he said, standing and stretching.

You turned and looked up at him, into his eyes. That made him blush. You smiled and you felt your own cheeks grow warm. “Yeah, of course.”

After that, he was more comfortable around you. From time to time the both of you could be found, earbuds in, heads bobbing along to some song or another or dancing around to music blasting from your portable bluetooth speaker. It was obvious to everyone who spent five minutes around the two of you that you both liked each other; there were inside jokes, laughter, and shared looks between you two, but the weeks went by and nothing more happened. 

Bella and Nico were frustrated with this. How was it possible that the most outgoing person they knew, couldn’t even bring himself to ask you out, when it was obvious that he wanted to?

Bella approached him again. “All I’m saying is you need to…” 

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” Bella argued.

“You were gonna say I need to ask her out,” Pedro responded.

“Well you do,” Nico said.

“She won’t say yes.”

“You don’t know that,” they both said at the same time. 

“All we’re saying is it won’t hurt to ask,” Bella said.

“It would hurt if she said no,” he pointed out.

“Which she won’t do,” Nico added, rolling her eyes.

“How do you…?”

“How do we know? By the way she looks at you,” Bella sighed

“She doesn’t…”

“Yeah, she does, she looks at you the same way you look at her.” 

Pedro sighed and shook his head. 

"What’s the problem?” Bella asked. “There’s something else isn’t there?”

He looked around, making sure they were alone, before confessing the one thing that was holding him back. “I-I’m too old,” he said quietly.

Bella and Nico exchanged glances, then started giggling. 

“It’s not funny.”

“No, but it is,” Bella said, “because it’s bullshit. If she didn’t like you she wouldn’t spend nearly as much time around you as she does, she wouldn’t talk to you as much as she does, none of it. I’m sure your age means nothing to her.”

“Exactly,” Nico agreed, nodding, then looking around she spotted you talking to someone. “So, what you’re gonna do is go over there and ask her out, and,” she said ignoring Pedro’s grunt of protest, “she’s gonna say yes, and you’re gonna take her somewhere nice.”

Pedro stared at you, as you talked and laughed with one of the other crew members, his nerves getting the best of him again. He wanted to go over to you, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. He looked at Bella and Nico and shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He looked back over at you, the conversation you were having had come to an end, and you were standing there, going through one of your bags, looking for something. 

At that moment, you looked up and around, spotting him. You smiled and he did the same, swallowing around the lump grown in his throat. He felt Bella push him forward slightly and sighed. They weren’t going to let this go until he did something, he knew. So, he squared his shoulders and walked over to you, smiling and blushing, but determined.

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, jamie drysdale

now you're liftin' me up, 'stead of holdin' me down stealin' my heart, 'stead of stealin' my crown untangled all the strings 'round my wings that were tied i didn't know him and i didn't know me cloud nine was always out of reach now i remember what it feels like to fly you give me butterflies

♡ ─ word count | 1.9k

♡ ─ summary | no one has ever made you feel the way jamie did. every day, jamie convinces you more and more that he loves you in different ways.

♡ ─ warnings | unedited, a little bit of angst to fluff (like the tiniest bit, it all gets resolved), tooth rotting sweet fluff, a little mention of exes, jealousy

♡ ─ taglist | fill out my form if you're interested!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i love jamie more than anything else in the world, he makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY. anyways, i kind of went off the song a little bit but i just needed a title LMAO, i love the song though. check it out if y'all haven't heard it. i'm such a whore for fluff, this was also very self indulgent.

You'd never been in love before Jamie.

That was the recent realization you'd have. Ever since you'd been with Jamie, you'd realized that no other ex could ever compare to Jamie. Or the way he treated you ─ it was special, and that was how you knew you loved him.

He treated you with respect and kindness, something you had never experienced before. All your other relationships were anything but that ─ stupid, immature and childish men were the ones you were used to.

It had been a recent realization, though. You'd only been with Jamie for about 8 months ─ neither of you had ever said the special three words. But that doesn't mean you guys didn't feel it ─ he showed it through his actions.

Jamie was very observant person, he was good at picking up certain cues which made him insanely empathetic ─ something you had never experienced before. He not only showed empathy but also a remarkable level of understanding, a realization that dawned on you during your first "disagreement" with him.

──

You sat next to Jamie as you both watched the movie, feeling the familiar burning of jealousy swell in your stomach as you kept repeating the same scene in your head over and over again. Jamie giving one of his girl-friends a very tight and up-close hug, putting his arms around her like he did with you. You weren't even paying attention to the movie at that point, too preoccupied with the feeling that was currently sitting in your stomach like a bag of rocks.

Now you knew that Jamie wouldn't ever cheat or make you uncomfortable ─ he did it subconsciously which somehow made it worse because you couldn't logically get jealous over something that wasn't intentional.

You made an effort to conceal your jealousy by diverting your attention to the movie playing, but you were lost in your own thoughts.

When the movie paused, you were finally drawn out of your thoughts as you turned to face Jamie.

He sighed and put the remote down, turning to face you completely. "What's wrong?"

You forced out a smile, "Nothing, just tried. Let's just finish the movie."

Jamie kept staring into your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows. "You're not tired, what's wrong? Really?"

You felt your stomach twist in irritation. How didn't he know? Your face turned to an annoyed expression like a switch. "I said nothing Jamie, so just drop it."

Your angry words lingered in the now, tense, atmosphere as you both stared into each other's eyes. Jamie slightly flinched at your unusual outburst.

Nevertheless, he continued. Jamie was nothing if not persistent, you'd noticed. "Y/N, just tell me what's wrong so we can fix this ─ I hate this."

The slight hurt in his voice made everything switch again. The anger turned into guilt just as quickly and you realized that you were being the toxic one now. Jamie wasn't your ex, Jamie was himself and that was why this was working.

You hated this feeling as you took a deep breathe, diverting your gaze back to the screen so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable under his watch. "I'm not sure..."

Jamie finally exhaled, putting his hand on top of yours. "There's obviously something wrong." He said softly, "Tell me so I can fix it, baby."

The sweet pet-name rolled off his tongue so softly, it made your heart swell and you were hit with a sense of comfort from his tender touch.

You exhaled deeply before returning your gaze back to him. "You hugged Emma too close the other night, I... I didn't like it. But I don't want you to feel suffocated or anything, if this is just me overthinking just tell me so I can just shut up about it─"

"Y/N, you're not suffocating me." He chuckled out in disbelief of your words. He held your hand tighter and sighed before nodding. "If you're uncomfortable with me hugging other girls, I don't want to make you feel bad so I can stop, baby. I'm sorry, I was just doing it out of habit."

You felt guilty almost instantly. "No, no. It's fine, it's not your fault, honestly. It was just because it was so close."

Jamie gave you a small smile. "Baby, I don't wanna touch anyone expect you, I don't care. Even if it makes you feel the tiniest bit upset, I won't do it. Trust me, it's not like it's an inconvenience."

The validation was a new feeling you'd never felt in any other relationship. It felt like a breath of fresh air ─ it was the best feeling ever. But you still felt a tiny bit guilty, were you being controlling?

It was like Jamie was reading your mind. Before you could reply, he continued. "You aren't being controlling, baby ─ you just communicated what you were feeling and I'm just agreeing with you. It's my own decision. You're right, if you hugged another boy like the way I did with Emma, I would've mad too."

The new feeling grew in your stomach and you felt so happy. A smile was plastered on your face as you squeezed his hand. You let out a deep exhale. "Thank you, for understanding."

"You're welcome, baby. But don't thank me for being a decent boyfriend, it's the least I could do." Jamie smiled as he pulled you closer to his chest. "How could I ever want any other person's touch when I have yours?"

You laughed at the cheesy statement, Jamie joining in a few seconds after. "Yeah, me too Jamie."

──

Jamie always showed his love in different ways. He was not a fan of too much PDA ─ he's a believer of privacy. He hates when other people are somehow involved in your relationship, he kept everything between you two because he knew it wouldn't end well if other people put their opinions on your relationship.

Jamie showed his love by doing the small stuff. Jamie was very observant and he knows everything you liked, and he would go out of his way to make sure to make you feel seen. For example, he knows that you weren't good on caffeine so he made sure to buy decaf coffee and herbal tea.

During the off-season, Jamie would still wake up before you and he would make your drinks. He knew you liked iced tea so he would make sure to put the drink in the fridge so you wouldn't have to wait. That was just one of the many things that Jamie does for you to show he cares.

──

You awoke softly, stretching in the warm bed before the dread sat in. You looked next to you ─ Jamie was already gone. You'd thought that his flight would be later in the day but you remembered it was 5 am.

You sighed softly and shook away the disappointment. You missed him ─ he had just flew back in a few days ago and even then, you'd only spent the nights together because he was busy. You understood but you couldn't help but feel a little dejected.

You got up to the bathroom and did your morning routine before walking into the empty living room before the kitchen. You opened the refrigerator door and saw your daily herbal tea which made you crack a small smile. You also saw a small sticky-note on the cup.

You picked it up and read it with a grin.

Sorry I had to leave early this morning. Made you some lemongrass and lavender tea, your favorite. Enjoy, baby.

Love, J P.S check the coffee table

Your heart swelled at the sweet words. You were slightly confused at the last statement and you put down your tea on the island before walking to the coffee table.

In the middle, sat a pink letter with a sticky note on top that says "This one". You giggled to yourself, you knew you could get confused. You picked it up and ripped it open.

There were two things ─ a note and a few tickets. You were confused as you read the note first.

Pack your bags and plan your outfits, we are going to see Taylor Swift in a week. I'll see you then.

Love, J

──

Neither of you had ever said the three of the most special words. The declaration of love had never been said by neither of you. You never needed to hear it ─ you already knew it.

He did things for you and so did you, you never needed to hear it to know it's true. Actions were stronger than words to both of you.

──

You two both stood in the kitchen, listening to some music as you made dinner. This was the first weekend Jamie had finally been free and you both decided a date night would be good for you two. You'd be lying if you said that his schedule didn't put a strain in your relationship but you both promised that a date night whenever he was free would help.

And it worked ─ you both listened to favorite artists as you made the pasta and he made the salad, updating each other on each other's lives. You spoke so freely, informing him on everything that was going in your head and so did he, telling you about all the drama that was going on in his friend-group and team.

"─And then we all just stood there, trying to figure out what to say to the poor girl." He laughed as he cut out the vegetables for your salad. "Then she left and keyed his new Range Rover."

The last part made you dial back, looking back in disbelief. "What? All because she thought they were dating?"

He laughed even louder, you joining a few seconds after. "Yeah! He was so mad he didn't come to practice for the next two days."

"Crazy. But I don't blame her, he shouldn't have led her on." You added as you poured the sauce over the pasta, looking over to Jamie.

"Agreed, but his Range Rover? I mean, that must've been a fortune to fix."

"Shouldn't have led her on, then." You said as Jamie let out another small laugh as he poured the salad into the bowl, putting on the dining table.

You poured the pasta in the plates and put them on the table, all while Jamie poured some juice into cups and into them on the table. The two of you were always in sync ─ you never had to worry about him not getting his tasks done.

You both sat in the table, exhausted. "I'm so hungry." Jamie mumbled before taking a bite of the pasta.

"Yeah, me too."

His eyes sparkled as he devoured the meal, emitting an appreciative moan. "Oh my gosh, I missed this. This is so good. My god, I love you," he mumbled while continuing to eat, seemingly unaware of his inadvertent declaration of love.

A sudden hush fell between you, and he nervously gulped down his food, his gaze fixed on you. You both looked at one another, quietly. He cleared his throat and nervously swallowed another bite, his gaze fixed on you.

At that moment, a radiant smile adorned your face, casting a warm and playful glow. You couldn't resist a teasing inquiry, letting the question dance in your eyes as you leaned forward slightly. "You love me or my food?"

The question hung in the air, carrying with it a sense of lightheartedness. The intensity was suddenly all dropped as he grinned back. "Is that okay if I say both?"

"Yeah, of course baby." You replied, continuing eating slowly as the music played in the background. "Hey, Jamie?"

He gave you a mumble in response, too busy eating the pasta you made.

"I love you too."

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[maybege]

The App - Part 2

Summary: You know who your perfect-match alpha is and it is not the guy from The App.  

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 11.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, knotting, etc.), older man/younger woman, implied age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sexual intercourse, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight (loving) degradation, semi-public sex, creampies, size kink, fluff fluff and more fluff

So … this second part kind of exploded which is why it took me so long to actually finish it lol but I hope the wait will have been worth it for you because ngl I am just swooning over alpha!Boba. Also I placed a little Easter Egg in here for another upcoming fic so bonus points to anyone who finds it 👀 Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!  

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

It was two weeks – and no phone call – later, that you decided to take matters into your own (nervously trembling) hands.

Boba thought he didn’t have to call you? Great. But you would not let him think that you were not interested, because you were. He was the one who had shown you what it could feel like to be loved by him and you would not let him ghost you without any explanation.

And if you so happened to want to give Josh back his jacket he had forgotten at your place and you needed to visit him at work for that? Well, then it would just be the most fitting coincidence if Boba was there too.

It was your luck that the receptionist, Peggy, recognized you from the few times you had visited Josh at work and simply waved you through to the elevators. No questions asked.

The doors slid open and you were faced with an empty floor and your heart plummeted. You stepped outside, letting your eyes roam over the open office space. But except for a few people you did not recognise, no one was there.

Shit. So much for coincidentally crossing Boba’s path.

You gripped the jacket tighter, fighting the insecure thoughts in your brain. So Josh was not here. That still meant you could leave the jacket and maybe write a quick note for Boba, just to let him know you were here and open to talk.

Maybe it was better this way. What were you going to say when you met Boba anyway? “Hi, sorry to show up unannounced but you said you would call and you didn’t and I’d very much like for you to call me.”? Yeah, no, that would not do.

Josh’s desk was as empty as always, particularly neat and void of anything that would make it seem remotely personal. You scoffed. How The App could have presumed you were the perfect match, you would never understand. You only regretted it had taken so long for you to see it.

You shifted on your feet, unease filling you at the thought when your eyes fell to the office at the end of the room. Just a few desks separated you from the glass-walled office that Boba inhabited during his work days. And that Boba was sitting in, right now, his phone by his ear.

It seemed he had not noticed you yet but your heart started racing all the same. This was your chance, this was the moment you had to use or else you would beat yourself up over it forever. This could give you clarity.

Taking a deep breath, you set a determined pace to the office, only to falter when he suddenly looked at you. You could not hear what he was saying but you could see the way his entire body shifted. How he paused his words, his eyes running over your form before hanging up, his hand gripping the phone tightly.

You opened the door without knocking and Boba stood up, his eyes still on you. He wore a black suit and with the way it clung to his broad frame, you were convinced that it had been tailored just for him.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly, “Is Josh here?”

“No,” he said, still standing behind his desk, “He is gone for lunch. They all are.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“I, uh, I brought his jacket,” you said, holding up the piece of clothing as if he would not believe you otherwise.

“I can see that.”

“I, uh, can I leave that here?”

“No.”

You faltered, “No?”

“I mean, you can, just not in my office, please,” he said, stepping around his desk. You could not help but swallow, trying to brace yourself for his proximity. His words did not seem inviting but there was something in his scent, something in his eyes, that had you hoping still.

So you took a step forward, a step closer, and you could see his hand flex and his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened and then he was in front of you, his chest brushing against yours and it was all you could do not to lean into him and beg him to scent you again.

Stars, did you want him to scent you again.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

At this point, you could not have cared less about Josh’s stupid jacket but there was no way you would not use it as a reason to stay. Even if it was just for a minute, for a second, longer in his presence.

“Why?” you breathed, taking in his scent, eyes already half-hooded at the familiar smoky scent.

“Because I don’t want anyone’s scent in here but yours,” he answered, just as quietly, “Omega.”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

The blood was thrumming in your veins and you wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him you loved him, you were pretty sure you did. And you wanted to ask him to scent you. And you wanted to tell him about how he was right, that Josh was a horrible match and The App was wrong and maybe he was your match.

No, not maybe. He looked at you so softly, so tenderly, it confirmed what your heart had known all along. He was your match.

But all you got out was a helpless whisper, “Alpha.”

As if it was even possible, his eyes got more intense, boring into yours as if to say I know.

“You did not call,” you said, almost accusatory as you watched his fingers brush over the back of your hand, “I thought maybe – maybe you don’t want me.”

“There is no universe in which I do not want you,” he murmured, his nose brushing your temple and his hand wrapping around yours, “I wanted to give you time. I didn’t … want to force you into something you might not be ready for.”

“I had no way to contact you,” you whispered, “I was so stupid, I just deleted all the groups when I broke it off with Josh and – what?”

“Nothing,” Boba said innocently but when you looked up you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.

“That’s not nothing,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“I didn’t know you had broken off things with him,” Boba stated, his smile widening, “Josh may have announced that he was the one who ended things.”

Say what now?

Your displeasure only grew because Boba chuckled again, a deep rumble in his chest that made you feel all warm and tingly and you leant into him, effectively hiding your frown. It was not that you particularly cared about Josh or how the world would see the end of your relationship. But hearing that he was evidently too ashamed to tell the truth about the end of your relationship just made you angrier because it showed the kind of person he had been all along. And you had been too blind to see it.

“I knew it was a lie all along,” he assured you quietly, his warm hand running down your back, “No alpha in their right mind would ever let you go. And I am pretty sure most of the others thought so too.”

“I don’t care what they think,” you answered truthfully and looked up at him. He was so close this way and you could see that he must have shaved this morning because the stubble was almost non-existent and you wondered if you could still feel it if he were to kiss you. “I only care what you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, “You should get that stinking jacket out of here and then come back so I can kiss you, omega.”

“You want to kiss me?”

You hated how surprised you sounded, how eager, but Boba did not make fun of you. His face looked dead serious and your heart skipped a beat. This man wanted to kiss you!

“Actually,” he said, straightening up and looking to the elevator where a few employees had come back from their break. You did not recognize them but you knew it meant it would not be long until familiar faces returned from their break. And you did not want to see them. “Did you have lunch yet?”

You shook your head.

“Let me take you out, then,” he suggested, seeming as put together and in control as always as he quickly went over to his computer and typed something, “Italian sound good?”

The smile appeared on its own on your lips and you felt like your feet no longer touched the ground, you were that happy.

“Italian sounds great.”

*

There was something to be said about Boba leading you through the city with his hand on your lower back like it belonged there. Like you belonged next to each other.

“Table for two,” he had told the maître d’ at a fancy-looking place you never would have considered for lunch. Suddenly you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had dug out your most beautiful winter dress for the day and the boots you had spent a whole movie on cleaning so they looked brand new.

You were sat at a slim booth, facing each other and your heart skipped a beat when you crossed your legs and your foot accidentally brushed against his slacks. You were so close.

Boba rumbled, eyes dark while he looked you over, his gaze lingering suspiciously long on your neckline that dipped a bit lower than what you usually wore. “Thank you for letting me take you out,” the alpha said, “I really appreciate getting to spend time with you.”

“I enjoy spending time with you, too,” you mumbled, avoiding his intense gaze by folding open the menu, “Though I wouldn’t have expected it when I first met you.”

The laugh he let out made your heart flutter (He sounded so happy!). “No, I hadn’t suspected it either,” he admitted, “If I recall I called myself an old man no one would ever want that day.”

“You are not that old!” the protest slipped off your tongue immediately and you felt your cheeks burn when he raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

“I am, though,” he said without any heat, “But at least I can say that it makes me better at some things.”

“Like what?”

He leant forward, his voice dropping to a low rumble that you felt reverberating in your chest, “Like I am better at making you come than all these boys on that app these days.”

All air left your lungs in a woosh and you swallowed harshly, trying to get your bearing and ignoring the sudden urge to press your thighs together. Or open them for him. Both sounded good at this point.

“Oh,” you breathed, your foot landing against his calf. It did not turn into anything sexual per se but the contact was enough to have your heart skip a beat. The tension was palpable between you and you wondered how you could have ever thought he was unbearable when he could make you flustered this easily.

“You probably are,” you replied quietly, your cheeks burning at your confession, “I have never felt like this with anyone. So … so on edge.”

“On edge, hm?” he smirked, leaning even closer, “I really wish I could sit next to you, omega, I want to see how close I can get you by just teasing that scent gland of yours.”

“Me too,” you whispered, taking a sip of your wine in the hopes of cooling down, “I really want you to scent me again.”

Boba did not say anything but demonstratively put his hand on the table palm facing up and open. You followed his silent instructions and put your hand in his, immediately enjoying the gentle skin-to-skin contact.

His thumb brushed over your wrist and your entire body shuddered. This was what you needed.

“Better?” he asked, his voice deep as his thumb carefully ran over your scent gland over and over again. The ones on the wrists were not as sensitive as the one on your neck, they never were, but it was enough, still, to have him gently scent you out here in the open for anyone to see.

You did not know what surprised you more: How much your body seemed to crave his touch or how he did not seem to mind to scent you in public. Your previous partner had always refused to actually scent you – it was just not something they wanted to do. But here was Boba, looking at you with so much tenderness and scenting you in plain sight. Not ashamed of you in the least.

“What do you want?”

I want you to fuck me.

“To eat,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, obviously recognizing the needy look in your eyes, “Because that waiter looks like he is ready to come over and I know how nervous you get about ordering.”

Your heart grew in size. He knew you so well, this quiet man who seemed to notice all the things you needed and was not afraid to point them out to you. But that realization did not help you when it came to the ache between your legs because he knew you so well and you just wanted to have him in your bed to try out all the fantasies your head could come up with.

“The – the pasta,” you finally found your words, your heartbeat picking up at the thought that maybe he would stop scenting you now that a witness would be here, “Please don’t let me go, alpha.”

“Never,” he vowed, “The ravioli, you mean?” he guessed, coaxing another sigh out of you when the pad of his calloused thumb drew a circle over your wrist, “With the cherry tomatoes and the basil reduction?”

You nodded with your eyes closed, completely letting yourself enjoy the way he touched you, the way he caressed you. “Yes, that one.”

The waiter came by and Boba ordered for you both, still holding your hand and the waiter did not even spare a glance at the way he touched you. You had spent so many years afraid of what the world would think when you were so obviously treated as an omega in a relationship. Spoiler alert: They did not care. And it was glorious.

“Now only one question remains,” Boba said with a smile when your food arrived, “Can I take you out for dinner sometime? On a proper date?”

*

A few days later, a knock on your door drove you into a flurry. You counted until six in your head before you opened the door, pretending like you had not waited in the hallway for ages for him to show up. Not because he was late, no, Boba Fett was punctual as always, but because you could not wait for this evening to start.

This date today was something you had looked forward to ever since he had called you and officially asked you out. (“There is that lovely little place down by the river,” he had said, “My friend owns it and I could get us a table with the best view. What do you think?”)

Now, Boba Fett was standing in your doorway, looking even more handsome than usual, in dark slacks and a white button-down with the top button undone, revealing a little bit more of his chest. He looked serious, just as much preoccupied with looming at you as you were with looking at him. Which meant that it took both of you a moment to realise that he was holding a colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Forgive my distraction,” he said, “You look stunning.” He held up the flowers, their scent floating between the two of you, “Here. For you.”

You were sure the smile on your lips could not get any brighter as you accepted them, your fingers brushing, “Thank you. Let me get them in some water. Wanna come inside?”

He hummed, following you into your tiny and cluttered apartment.

You tried not to look back at him and gauge his reactions. You liked to describe your apartment as cosy and homey and, yes, maybe a teeny tiny bit cramped. You had never been one for the minimalistic way of life and your apartment reflected that. There were pictures and books and trinkets everywhere, your fridge was covered in magnets from your travels and postcards from your friends and family.

It was no surprise, in hindsight, that Josh had not liked your place at all and he had not shied away to articulate that out loud. Several times, in fact, until you had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would stay over at his place and your souvenirs would have to live the rest of their lives in storage boxes.

But this was your home. It was you. Which is why it was more important than anything to you that Boba liked it.

Boba was too good a man to criticize your place openly, you knew that. But you still could not resist glancing at his broad form in the living room while you filled the vase with water.

“What do you think?” you asked, hoping to hide your nervous undertone when you set the vase down on your kitchen table. You could not wait to wake up each morning and be greeted with the sight of the flowers your favourite alpha had gotten for you.

“Feels like a home,” he said, running his fingers over a stack of books that had no space in the bookcase, “Feels like you.”

His words were soft-spoken and sincere and you watched as his gaze roamed over your apartment. The couch with the sunk-in cushions where you always sat, the mess of books and notepads and remotes on your coffee table, all pulled together by the singular scented candle you treated yourself to once in a while. The walls were covered with pictures and prints of your travels (or the places you wanted to travel to) and your friends and family peppered in between.

It did feel like you. And when he said it, it sounded like a compliment.

“Thank you, alpha.”

His head shot up and, in his eyes, you could see the thoughts he had. If calling someone omega was a love confession, what did it mean to him to be called alpha?

He crossed the few steps that were between you before he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle and so full of love it made your heart swell. His scent was in your nose and the stubble on his jaw rubbed over your skin, making you want him even closer.

“Let’s go, omega,” he whispered against your mouth, “Or else we will be late and Paz will have my head.”

“If you say so,” you grinned, “Lead the way, alpha.”

*

Hours later, you still were not ready to say goodbye.

You had talked and flirted and laughed and eaten and now, Boba had driven you home, parking a few blocks away with the insistence that he should walk you home. You had accepted with a smile.

“So,” he started, casually walking alongside you, “How was it for a first date?”

You hummed, pretending to mull over your answer as if it weren’t incredibly obvious. The streetlights illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the profile of his nose, his full lips, and the twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It could have been worse,” you teased him, “I don’t think it was the worst first date I have ever been on.”

Boba chuckled, coming to a stop in front of an entryway that looked like yours. Your heart fell at the thought of having to leave him. If it were up to you, this night could go on forever.

“Not the worst first date,” he quoted you, his grin lighting up his whole face, “I count that as a win. Besides,” he turned, facing you, “The most important thing is whether you would go out with me again. What do you think?”

“I would,” you murmured, entirely too fixated on how close he was and if you could get him to kiss you again, “Of course, I would, Boba.”

The silence between you two was comfortable but you could not feel like time was running away from you two. So you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“Do you want to come up for a coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded you with a little smile, “You told me that tonight, remember?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten about that, “You know I wasn’t really asking you up for a coffee, right?”

“Hm,” he said, stepping closer to you and you did not shy away. His eyes roamed over your form. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looming over you, his breath washing over your face. “You know there is nothing I would love more than to come up for … not coffee”, he winked and you smiled, “But this is our first date and I – I want to do this right and proper. So, no coffee tonight, little one.”

“Oh well,” you pouted, your hand reaching out to tug his hand out of his pocket. Boba smiled and followed your lead, his hands leaving his pockets and landing on your lower back, pulling you against him. “Your good night kiss will have to make up for that disappointment then.”

His nose brushed against yours and the familiar excitement built up again in your belly at the prospect of kissing him. “I guess I will have to work really hard for it,” he joked quietly before he closed the distance between you.

The kiss started soft and gentle, his mouth moving against yours, slowly coaxing you open. But it did not take long before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. It did not take long before his tongue mingled with yours, his teeth brushing over your bottom lip and one of his hands wandering to your ass, slightly squeezing.

It was when the slightest of moans left your lips that he pulled away from you, your body instantly missing his touch.

“Dinner, then?” Boba asked, his breathing slightly laboured, “Next week?”

*

You did not make it to dinner.

And you hated yourself for it.

But whatever flu had caught you, it had caught you good and as you drafted the text to Boba, cancelling the dinner date you had spent the last week looking forward to, you felt like crying out of pure frustration. But there was no way you were able to leave your apartment today.

So you did the only thing you could. You planted yourself on the couch, curled up with a heated blanket and too many mugs of tea and set your timer to when you could take the next painkiller to keep the migraine at bay. You could not even focus on the old sitcom that you had put on in the background, instead just dozing on and off and trying to find a position that did not make every single muscle in your body ache.

It felt absolutely miserable.

A knock on your door got you up and you trudged to the door, hoping that it was just one of your neighbours with a package that got misdelivered. Stars knew you weren't up to anything else.

“Boba,” you mumbled, completely confused at the sight in front of you, “Did – did you not get my text?”

He stood in front of you, dressed in jeans and a shirt made from a material so soft, your fingers itched to touch it. “I did,” he confirmed, holding up a white plastic bag that smelled divine, “So I brought you some soup.”

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You wanted to tell him that but somehow, your tongue refused to move and the words would not leave your mouth. You just stared at him, tears brimming in your eyes as you looked at this alpha who did not seem to be angry at you at all for ruining his plans.

“Will you let me come inside?” his voice was gentle and caring, “I can heat up the soup and make you some tea. And then I can get out of your hair and let you rest.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you found your voice again, happy that you managed to express at least this one thought, stepping aside to let him in, “Th-thank you for coming, alpha.”

You watched as he set the food down in the kitchen before coming into the living room, taking in the damage. The pity was clear in his eyes and you felt a little ashamed at him seeing you so out of control. Everything was a mess and there were used tissues lying everywhere, your laundry had not been done for a week and the dishes were piling up in your sink. Not to mention that you had not managed to gather the strength to take out the trash which was why your kitchen was currently a No Zone for you.

But none of that seemed to interest him.

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?” he asked finally, his brows furrowed as he took in the haphazardly thrown blankets on the sofa.

You shrugged, tugging on your sleeves. You would have to change your shirt soon, the fabric felt unusually scratchy today and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. ”The bed feels cold,” you tried to explain, “And – and the pillows don’t sit right. And I’m too sick to – “

“Make a nest,” Boba realised, his eyes softening, “You’ve been needing a nest all this time, ‘mega?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and bracing yourself for the rejection that you would inevitably see in them. So far, Boba had proven different from Josh in every way, different from all the other alphas in every way. And while you knew that your brain was most probably playing tricks on you, you felt too miserable to stop the intrusive thoughts that tried to tell you that this would be the point where he realised that being with an omega – being with you – would be too much work.

“Do you want me to help?”

Your head shot up and you were unable to hide the surprise on your face. But the look on his face was sincere as he looked at you, expecting your answer.

This was one of those moments, you realized, where you could accept what the universe – Boba – offered you. Even if you had never experienced it before. Careful not to jostle your head too much, you nodded and made your way to your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you.

The curtains were still drawn but with how bright it was outside, one could still see the half-finish nest you had attempted to build on your bed. It just looked sad now, the twisted blanket and the pillows you had half-heartedly thrown on top of it.

But with Boba behind you, it just felt incomplete and you realized what you had been missing. “I – I want it a little bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

Big enough for you to join me.

But the words remained unspoken as you focused on pulling the blankets apart, getting a bigger circle shape to fill out the entire space your mattress offered. If you pulled it just this way, then you could have –

“Do you have some extra blankets I should get you?” Boba asked from where he had been standing on the opposite side of the bed, carefully copying your movements. You liked the look of his big hands touching the materials of your nest, colouring them in his scent. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would stay long enough that his scent lingered even after he left.

You nodded, pointing to the closet next to the door where you stashed your extra pillows and blankets. The kinds that were always freshly washed and soft enough that you endured them even in your heat. Now, you felt hot too, but in a sick kind of way and your head was thrumming with pain.

Deep down, you knew you should rest. You knew it would not be long until the dizziness set in or the itchiness of the fabric made you want to cry. But Boba was there and he had seen the mess and you did not – you swallowed harshly, your hands starting to tremble – you could not bear if he left now.

“Omega,” Boba rumbled upon his return, clearly having noticed your distress, and your hands stilled at the strict tone in his voice, “Let me take care of this.”

“Don’t want you to work,” you mumbled as you pushed the circle a little wider, “I promise I'm not that much work.” You looked up at him, your voice earnest and your eyes tearing up and you cursed yourself for how weak Josh had made you, how weak you felt at having to face the fact that Boba Fett meant more to you than you had wanted to admit.

His face fell at your words and you could feel the tears threatening to spill.

The blankets fell into the space of your nest, freshly washed and smiling of your favourite laundry detergent. But you could not focus on them now. Not when he made his way around the bed to you until he was right in front of you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Omega,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face. They felt cool against your skin and sighed in relief, your eyes closing, “You are sick, my omega,” he repeated, “You are not too much work. I want to help you. Please, lie down in your nest and let me help. Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated for a second, the demons in your head still whispering about whether or not he was telling the truth. But one look in his warm eyes and you knew he was and you knew you could trust him.

Boba only let go of you once you nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you straighten out the blankets. “Here is what we are going to do,” he said, his voice warm and gentle, “I will help you make the nest and then you will lie down and take a nap, okay?”

“And you?” you asked unsure, fluffing a pillow in the corner, already imagining yourself and Boba lying down right there.

“I will take care of a few things and then we will see what you need.”

His voice did not leave much room for protest and if you were honest with yourself, you did not want to protest either. Taking a nap in your nest sounded like a dream and having Boba close by? That was even better.

It did not take long after that before your nest truly looked like your nest. The blankets and pillows were arranged in a perfect circle, high enough for you to lean against them and your favourite blanket was folded inside, too, ready to cover you whenever you needed.

“I will leave you to it, omega,” Boba murmured, his hand gently running over your back before disappearing into the hallway.

Only after you heard him cluttering around somewhere, did you take off your leggings, feeling positive that he would not leave. After a bit of thinking, you took off your panties too. You changed into your sleep shirt, the one thing that felt soft against your skin and it was long enough to cover your ass, too. The only things you kept from your original outfit were the fuzzy socks. Just at first until you could feel the cold leave you.

Lying down in your nest was just as glorious as you had expected and you dozed off in no time. The little sounds from the depths of your apartment and the dimmed sunlight through your curtains paired with Boba’s lingering scent on your blankets resulted in your body feeling relaxed and pliant for the first time in three days.

You did not know how much time passed but by the time you opened your eyes again, you felt much better and Boba stood by your bed.

He carefully arranged the pillows around you, making sure they were as fluffy as possible and you smiled when his hands lingered on your shoulders. “Is that okay?” he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out for him, “Do – Will you join me?”

The large man smiled, his voice still careful as he pulled the curtains closed. “I would love to, omega, what's the dress code?”

“Shoes off,” you ordered with a weak smile, “And the shirt, too. And the belt.”

He hummed and you did not have to see him to know he was smiling. You watched with interest as his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, more and more tan skin revealed to you as he pulled it over his head. It was the first time you had seen him like this and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that maybe it would not be the last time.

“Like what you see?” he joked, his hands going to his belt and you bit your lip, your eyes not leaving his body as he crawled into bed next to you. He pulled a soft blanket from somewhere, covering you both with it and you sighed, shuffling closer to him.

The alpha’s arms went around you, holding you to him so you could tuck your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent and enjoying the sheer touch of him against you. While the silence between you felt comfortable and you found yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever, you also could not shake the little bit of nervousness at this new position you found yourself in.

“I have never shared my nest with anyone,” you confessed into the crook of his neck, “I – I don’t know if I am doing it right.”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” he asked you gently, his hand holding the back of your neck firmly. You closed your eyes, giving you some relief from the strain behind your eyes. His finger started moving, gently and slowly massaging the back of your neck.

He was right. It did feel right.

“If it helps, it is my first time in an omega’s nest as well,” he replied and you hummed. “No, that’s a lie,” he added after a moment of silence, his hand movement never ceasing, “I was in my mother’s nest a few times when I was very little.”

“A few times?” you asked, remembering how you had spent entire weekends as a toddler with your parents in their nest.

“I have a lot of brothers,” he revealed, “Like a ridiculous amount, really. It was sometimes a fight to get in there, you know? Not that it made me feel any less loved.”

You smiled at the thought of a young Boba toddling around with his brothers in a big nest.

“It sounds nice,” you murmured, running your hand over his chest. You focussed on the warmth of his body, the way his skin felt under your fingertips and how you could feel his heartbeat.

“It is,” you could feel him nod, “Family reunions are a nightmare though. Pure chaos.”

Your laugh got stuck in your throat when his nose brushed over your neck. His breath washed over your scent gland and you could feel how your body attuned to him.

“This is nice, too,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. His nose on your scent gland sent warm shivers down your spine. It was calming and made you feel safe and cosy and like you could finally rest.

“It is,” he agreed quietly, turning your body so he was on his back and you were glued to his side, “Rest now, my omega, I got you.”

*

It was several days of rest until you finally could breathe through your nose again. But when the rest of the flu had dissipated and you felt like you could return to life as usual and Boba asked you out to the opera, you knew it would be even better than the date you had originally missed.

The older alpha took you out to dinner first. To a fancy restaurant by the water where the waitlist was several months long. So long, in fact, that you marvelled at how he managed to get a table there. As it turned out, the small restaurant in question was owned by his friend Paz, a giant of an alpha who came out of the kitchens with a huge grin and a promise to deliver you the best meal you ever had.

And just like Boba, Paz Vizsla was an alpha who kept his word. Paired with the most delicious wine you ever had, you were served a three-course pre-theatre dinner that had you humming with delight.

But the true highlight of the night was not the strawberry pistachio tarte or the seafood pasta, no. It was the man in front of you.

Boba’s eyes never left you. He held your chair for you and had his hand on yours whenever time allowed. He looked so handsome in his black suit with a dark grey dress shirt and you found your eyes straying to the first few undone buttons that granted you a look at his chest.

Stars, you were so done for.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you, “That has to be my favourite colour on you.”

It was a dark green silk dress that was clinging to your body “in all the right places” as your friends had assured you in the group chat. And hearing Boba thinking the same things made you happier than you could have imagined.

“And you look very put together, as always,” you teased him back, leaning forward and not missing the way his eyes flashed to your neckline. If only he knew …

Your alpha smiled at you, then, and leant back in his chair like it. You watched with bated breath as he held his thick hand up and started rolling up his sleeves, revealing his tanned forearm to you. First the one, then the other and then he dared to wink at you because he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And it was exactly these filthy thoughts that got you into the mess that followed.

Because Boba had a private boy. Of course, he did.

You felt like a princess when he led you up the carpeted stairs through the gorgeous old building to a little room that was reserved just for you. It was hard to look at the steps in front of you when you were so distracted by the painted ceilings, the stucco and the giant chandeliers that, just for a second, gave you the feeling of travelling back in time. But Boba’s hand was right there to steady you, his hand squeezing yours warmly when you heisted before.

The first thing you were greeted with was a set of fancy drinks – your favourite mocktail and a scotch that was older than both of you for Boba. Only then did you take in the room.

For some reason, you had thought that the door would lead immediately to your private seats for the show. Instead, you were standing in a little reception room, furnished with a plush couch and a minibar and looked far fancier than any hotel room you had ever stayed in.

Slow music was playing from a record player and if you listened carefully, you could hear the orchestra getting ready through the thick curtain. It was cosy and private and made you feel like you were far away from everyone and everything.

You sat down on the couch, sinking into the fabric with a laugh and Boba joined you. Sitting next to you, with his legs spread and leaning back against the couch with one hand still holding his scotch, he was the picture of sex appeal. Everything about him made you hyper-aware of the arousal simmering in your core.

“What are you thinking about, little omega?” he rumbled, taking a sip of the amber liquid. You watched his throat move and swallowed with him, wanting to press your lips to his Adam's apple.

“Nothing,” you whispered, slowly leaning forward. Your heart was pounding in your chest, “Just that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

The glass of scotch landed on the side table with a clank and he turned towards you, his eyes intense. “We can't have that,” he stated, a small smile on his lips, “C’mere, love, let me remedy my mistake.”

You don’t know who moved faster but his warm hand cupped the side of your face the moment your lips met his. He tasted of scotch and something uniquely him that had you opening your mouth for his tongue.

Desire overcame you and in no time, his hand on your hip held you steady as you climbed on top of him, your knees settling on the couch on either side of his lap as you tried to get as close as possible. He was warm and solid and you just wanted – you needed – to feel him.

The fire in your core was fuelled by the low groans that left his mouth and when your hips stuttered against his and you could feel him hard against you, you wished you were anywhere else but the opera. Maybe your bedroom. Or his bedroom. Anywhere with a bed, really.

You were completely out of breath when you pulled apart. Boba had a lazy smirk on his face, his free hand trailing slowly over your neckline. He ran his finger over the silk of your dress, right over your tit, circling where you needed him most and sure enough you could feel and see your nipple pebble through the thin fabric.

“Tell me,” he rumbled, “What did you think would happen when I realised that you were not wearing a bra and that you are this close,” he hooked a single finger into the neckline, gently pulling the fabric down your skin until your chest was free to the cool air, “to showing me your pretty tits?”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumbled, your ears hot at him knowing how bare you were beneath this dress. You had never done anything like this but Boba – Boba brought it out in you. It made you feel a little dirty in the best way and you knew you had Boba to thank for it.

“That’s one way to say you’d like to skip straight to dessert,” he teased you and you could not help your smile. The tension did not falter though and neither did the movement of his finger circling your nipple but not quite touching it.

You wriggled your hips, trying to get closer to him.

The groan that left him had your pussy weeping.

“How long did you know?” you asked shyly, arching your back so he could touch you freely.

“When you bent over at dinner,” he revealed, his thumb finally brushing directly over your nipple, bringing it to a peak. The feather-light touch was repeated on the other side as well. “Had me rock hard in an instant, princess. I had half a mind to sit you in my lap right there so no one can see how I would bury my cock in your sweet pussy.”

“Alpha,” you breathed. His fingers tightened on your nipples and you squeaked when he gently pulled, the mixture of pain and pleasure making you whine.

“Performance doesn’t start in the next 30 minutes,” he rumbled, his mouth closing over one east and you gasped, “How about we get you out of this pretty dress and I make you come?”

“Boba!” you gasped, “You – We – we are in the opera.”

“That we are,” he agreed, lightly biting the underside of your breast.

“You – you don’t mind?”

“Omega,” he said softly, standing up and pulling you with him until you were standing in the middle of the room, “I have you half-naked in my lap, ready for me to devour you. I don’t mind where we are as long as no one sees how pretty you look for me. So what do you say?”

You did not say anything but you shimmied your shoulders until the dress fell down your torso. Boba’s hands were big and warm on your back as he helped it along the rest of your body. The silk fell from your body in a whisper and just like that, you stood in front of him completely bare, in a private room in the opera.

Stars, you never would have thought to do something like this. And Boba Fett still looked at you like you were the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

“Stunning,” he stated, his dark eyes running over your body. He sat down on the couch again and patted his thighs. You stepped closer, feeling strangely secure and forward – completely bare for this man who made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“It’s unfair, though,” you pouted as you ran your fingers over the buttons of his shirt, “You are still fully dressed.”

“Hm, let me enjoy it for now,” he smiled, pulling you against him, his hands immediately finding their way to the soft flesh of your ass, “I want to pay attention to all of this,” he squeezed your ass, “before I get distracted by your touch.”

His words turned you on more than you wanted to admit and so instead, you only squirmed in his grasp.

“Straddle me,” he instructed, relaxing against the couch as you followed his order, “Keep the heels on.”

The feeling of your bare skin against the fabric of his suit was surprisingly erotic and your pussy clenched at the proximity to him. He was warm and strong beneath you, letting you rest your weight on his thighs and the couch.

“I want you to feel how hard I am,” he explained, pushing your hips down on him and your eyes flew open at the bulge you felt pressing against your core. He felt … big. “And then I want you to tell me how you want to come tonight.”

You swallowed heavily, gathering the courage to reciprocate the honesty he was giving you. “On your cock, alpha,” the words felt strange on your tongue, never having been one for dirty talk, but the flint in his eyes made it worth it, “I want to come on your cock.”

He chuckled. “I'm afraid that’s not an option, omega. We are in public after all,” he winked, his hand wandering down your cheek and body until his fingers brushed against your folds. You were already soaking wet and you closed your eyes, grinding your hips against him, “You can have my fingers or my mouth.”

His middle finger ran through your wetness before his fingers twitched and he pushed one inside you to the first knuckle. You breathed in sharply, his touch causing everything in your body to stir.

“This okay?” he asked you, his voice rough like sandpaper, “Does my finger in your pretty cunt feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, gasping when his mouth closed over your nipple again, “It feels really good, alpha.”

“Good,” he rumbled, finger moving carefully deeper inside you before pulling out again. With his other hand still kneading your ass, he grinned, “Would you like me to add another finger?”

A whine escaped you at his slow pace. He really wanted to make you work for it.

“That is not an answer,” he mocked, looking up at you. You kissed him again, enjoying the way his stubble rubbed over your jaw and his tongue playing with yours, “Do you want my fingers in your pussy? Yes or no?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “Please, alpha, let me come on your cock.”

“Fuck, you're filthy,” he cursed, his hand landing on your ass in a slap, “Who knew my pretty omega could talk this dirty?”

His praise made your cheeks heat up but it did not keep you from moving your hips again. This time, you could feel the tip of him catching against your clit and a thousand nerve endings tingled. Your eyes fluttered with desire and you did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until Boba made you stop with a strong hand against your back.

“Lean against me,” he ordered, “Go on, your chest against mine.”

Following his instructions, you fully rested against him and used the position to your advantage by plating your mouth on his scent gland. It was the first time you properly tasted him – all pinewood and smoked – and it clouded your mind instantly. All you could and wanted to do was follow whatever Boba said.

“Spread your legs,” you did, “Wider, omega.”

You whimpered against him but still spread your legs as wide as they would go. It opened you up to him but instead of slipping his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushed down your back to your ass, until –

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers only barely brushing over the crack of your ass, “I am not here for that now. Soon, though.”

You could feel his finger slowly pushing inside you, its way eased by the wetness coating your thighs and walls. Your eyes widened, completely locked in by his gaze as you felt him slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy.

“Want you grinding against my cock while I finger you,” he explained, voice rough, “You deserve to come, pretty omega.”

He pushed his finger, so much thicker than yours, back in again and you could feel your walls flutter. By the way Boba’s eyes darkened, he had felt it too. Soon, he added a second one, thoroughly stretching you until you were helplessly humping against him.

The sight of you must have been filthy. This older, completely dressed man with an undressed omega on top of him grinding herself against his cock and panting against his scent gland. It turned you on even more and when you licked a stripe up his neck, he groaned too, his hips rocking up against yours and paired with his fingers inside you, you were already so close to coming.

But it was not what you wanted.

“I want your cock,” you pouted, rocking against him. He was heavy and hot and your pussy was throbbing for him, “Don’t make me wait, Boba, please.”

The hand on your ass travelled to your jaw, tilting your head until he could kiss you. “You beg so prettily for me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip, “You almost have me reconsidering.”

Spurred on by his words, you pushed your hips back against his fingers, having them go deeper. Trying to keep from gasping, you bit your lip until it hurt.

“Please, alpha,” you breathed, doing your best to put on your most seductive voice, “Please alpha, I want to feel your cock so badly, I – I just know it is going to feel so good, p-please. I need it. I need it so bad.”

He did not reply for a while, simply adding a third finger that had your walls flexing around him. That should have been the sign of your victory but you were too busy grinding your clit against his covered shaft to really register it.

“I am nothing if not generous,” he teased you, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your scent gland, “But I will not knot you. I will only let you sit on my cock and fill you with my come. But I will not knot you. Not yet.“

You could live with that.

He spread you out on the couch before resting over you and it was that moment that you remembered that all that was separating you from hundreds of people were the thick velvet curtains. He seemed to know that too.

“Stay quiet, little one,” he warned you but the devious smile on his lips made you feel like he wouldn’t mind at all if everyone knew what was about to happen. And that just made you feel even hotter.

The sight of him undoing his belt alone was enough to cause another rush of wetness down your thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord, wanting to give him the view he was giving you. Because seeing his cock, big and heavy, had your pussy clenching. There was a bead of precome on the tip that you desperately wanted to taste and when his hands wrapped around his shaft, giving himself a few strokes, it was all you could do not to beg.

But Boba had plans. “One foot on the floor,” he ordered you and you did as you were told. He pushed your opposite leg on the backrest of the couch, effectively spreading you even further and felt a little ashamed, being so exposed to him.

His strong hand continued to pump his cock while he looked at your pussy like he wanted to devour you.

“Alpha,” you whined, growing restless, “Please …”

“We got to be quick, little omega,” he warned you, “We have a show to catch, after all.”

Despite his warning, he pushed inside you slowly, letting you get used to his size. You had known it would be a tight fit from just seeing him but the feeling of the tip alone breaching your walls had your breath catching in your throat. Boba noticed, of course, and his thrust remained shallow until you could finally relax.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Can feel you opening up for me. You’re all quiet now, hm? All you wanted was that big fat cock fully in your pussy, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, his words making your cheeks flush. His body, still dressed, moved above yours expertly while you hardly knew what to do with yourself. You felt full and pleasured and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. All you could do was run your hands over his body, grabbing his shoulders, brushing your fingertips over his scent gland and then to the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Boba, meanwhile … Boba was a rock. He was confident, calm and in control. All the C-words, really. Cocky too, judging by the smirk on his face as he bent down to kiss you again.

“Tell me,” he encouraged you, “How are you feeling with my cock inside you, princess?”

“Full,” you breathed, “So full, alpha. It’s – are you –“

He looked down, his finger circling your clit, making your clench around his firth. “Not even halfway, little one,” he stated and you took a deep breath, “I’m gonna fit in this tight little pussy, no worries.” He continued to circle your clit and you hummed, feeling your walls stretch around him.

“There we go,” he encouraged you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he spoke, “There’s my good girl. So gorgeous for me, feel so good around my cock. Tell me, does it feel good for you too?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, trying to shift your hips to get closer but Boba pinned you down with his body weight, shoving the rest of him inside you in the process. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the moan that wanted to break free. His weight on top of you was comforting. You wanted him to have this control over you, having to worry about nothing but enjoying yourself.

“I am the one who moves around here,” he chastised you, fully thrusting inside you again and brushing a spot that made you shiver, “Trust me, omega. Let me take care of you. You just lie here and take it.”

And take it you did.

“Faster, please,” you whispered, “Just a little – oh!”

He adjusted his pace perfectly like he knew exactly what you needed. The size of him inside you made you see stars and you felt dizzy with pleasure. When he angled his hips just so, his cock met that spot again and again until your eyes fell back and your mouth fell open. Thick fingers wrapped around your neck, just under your jaw and you could feel his breath on your skin.

Your toes started tingling and soon the sensation ran through all your muscles until you were spasming around him in the strongest orgasm you had ever felt. Everything felt heightened and with how you were clenching around him, he felt even bigger than he already was.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed into your neck, his hips stuttering, “You are so fucking pretty, omega. Can’t wait to fill you up like you deserve, full of my cock and my come. Gonna do this every day, princess, so you remember who you belong to, hm?”

Gasping for breath, your heart still racing in your chest, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “Alpha, I –“

“I know, princess,” he groaned quietly, his hips stilling, “I know.”

His cock was so deep inside you, you never wanted him to leave. You wanted to remain like this forever. He came inside you and you could feel it, the strange sensation of him filling you up with what felt like a lot of come, a guaranteed mess between your thighs.

Still, you had never felt as connected with anyone as with Boba at this moment, his clothed body pressing against yours, his breath slowing against your neck.

 “Stars,” you whispered, blinking the sudden tears away.

Boba kissed you softly, his rough hands running over every inch of bare skin. His weight on you was comforting and the way he caged you in made you feel oddly small and safe. He pulled out of you, slowly, and you winced when his come trickled down your tights as soon as he left you.

You watched as he reached for some tissues, gently cleaning you up. He remained silent but gentle, his fingertips brushed carefully over your inner thighs and your already swollen folds.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucked,” you breathed out. Both of you chuckled but the sight of him pocketing your panties had you grow quiet. “Don’t mind if I keep these,” he rumbled, his hands helping you stand before smoothing your dress down your legs, “Want to keep a souvenir of when I filled you up the first time.”

You were completely breathless again and it did not help that you could still feel him inside you. “Thank you,”

“For what, omega?”

You stepped closer to him, planting your hands on his chest. His heart was beating just as hard as yours and you could not wait to later peel the shirt off him and feel his body heat against yours. For now, though, you just pressed a kiss to his neck. “For taking care of me,” you explained, “For making me come,” you kissed his jaw, “For fucking me so good,” you whispered before kissing him softly, “For coming inside me.”

His hands went to your waist, holding you closer and allowing him to prolong the kiss. He was growling when you pulled away and it was easy to admit that he already had a hold on your heart and pussy. But it was your turn to tease now.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “Didn’t you say we had a show to catch?”

Boba grinned, eyes twinkling as he pulled back the curtains for you. “You're gonna be the death of me, little one.”

*

Fortunately, you were not the death of him, though he did like to continue the joke weeks (if not months) into your relationship.

Being with Boba was like stepping out into the daylight after the movies. It was strange at first, getting used to the fact that he was so openly in love with you. That he was not afraid to embrace you being an omega. It led to a few misunderstandings and more than a few serious talks in which you came to the realization that your dating history had impacted you more than just a little.

But Boba was not about to leave you because you were an omega and he was not about about to leave you because you were too high-maintenance.

It took a bit of time and a few in-depth conversations with your friends but soon enough you learnt that you were lovable, omega and all. And Boba was the exact right person to love you.

Your first heat together was better than anything you had ever imagined. He had noticed it before even you had, showing up at your door with takeaway food from Paz’s place, flowers and a bag of his worn shirts. That and his “I took the next few days off, princess, let’s get your nest ready” came just a few hours before you noticed the cramping in your belly.

By the time your heat properly hit, you were already buried in the softness of your nest, cuddled against your alpha’s chest as you watched your favourite movies. You spent three days holed up with him in your apartment, taken care of in every single way from him scenting you to arranging the nicest fruit platter to sitting you on his knot until you cried, whispered the sweetest nothings in your ear.

It was the happiest you had ever been and for the first time in a long time, you were confident that this happiness would remain because Boba gave you every indication that it would remain.

Like when he suggested one winter evening that your flowers would bloom nicely in his garden come springtime or when he took you to the hardware store, getting all the tools to hang your pictures in his – your – home. Or how careful he was to help you pack up all your stuff, making sure everything stayed secure and safe as you made the move from your small apartment into his house that became yours.

Or that time he surprised you with the Merino wool throw blanket for your nest when you complained one December evening that the only thing that could keep you warm was him.

The one moment where it all came full circle though, was when he decided to host his team for another summer BBQ. You already had a ring on that finger (a ring he had put there after an especially romantic evening at Paz’s restaurant) and his house now truly reflected the both of you living there, but the prospect of seeing the man who had triggered it all still made you a little bit nervous.

It was hard to believe that only a year ago, you had tried to avoid Boba and the feelings he caused in you at all costs. And now you were engaged to him and could not imagine your life any other way.

A few guests were already mingling in the garden when you put out the last of the cutlery. Boba followed close behind, carrying the cooler out of the garage.

“Ready?” you asked, smoothing your hands over your yellow sundress. The hem was hitting mid-calf and you loved the little twirl it did. What you loved even more was the way your alpha had buried his head under that dress only a few hours ago.

“Ready,” he confirmed with mirth in his eyes. It would not surprise you if he knew exactly where your mind had been.

A wave of new guests arrived in the garden and you stiffened when you recognized one familiar face. And he recognized you.

“Hey,” Josh greeted you, his voice just as grating as you remembered, “I didn’t know you would be here.”

He did not try to hug you for which you were grateful but he also did not leave. You really wanted him to leave.

“Hi,” you forced yourself to smile, highly aware of Boba standing right next to you. His hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting as you faced the man who once called himself your perfect match.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, but, uh,” Josh looked to Boba, questioningly, “Why are you here, exactly?”

You wanted to scoff, you really did. But your body was tight with nerves and you did not like the eyes of the other guests on you. But you should have known that Boba would take care of you. He always did.

“C’mere, omega,” your alpha mumbled with a soft smile and your heart skipped a beat as his fingers gripped your chin and pulled you to him. And then he kissed you in front of everyone. Just a slow peck, nothing more, but you could not help but sigh against him, your hand landing on his warm chest.

He hummed, his scent surrounding you even in the open air and when he pulled away, you were both smiling. Pinewood and smoke were your favourite scents in the world.

Everybody was smiling, really, except for one.

“Do you wanna explain yourself?” Josh demanded, for the first time sounding displeased.

“I don’t think there is anything to explain,” you replied coolly, your hand still on Boba’s chest, smiling at the man in front of you. The diamond on your ring caught the sunlight but it was nothing against the blinding smile on Boba’s face.

Boba, who paid just as little attention to Josh as you, his eyes never leaving yours as he raised his hand to your face. “What can I say,” he grinned, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, “She found her perfect match.”

[miyasturniolo]

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST | nick sturniolo

pairing: bsf!nick x f!reader

summary: where you and nick have been spending the whole day together and tried to find a film but at the end, the two of you decided to listen to the playlist that you both created.

warning: fluff (??), use of y/n, swearing.

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. this is short and simple but I wanted to make a nick one.

WORDS: 0.9k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | nick - purple

-

You and Nick spent the whole day shopping because he needed to find a new shirt after Chris spilled a drink on him since he would find it funny.

Now though you were in Nick's room, he was eating the pizza he picked up on the way home so the two of you could share, while you were going through the items you had purchased.

You didn't buy much because you didn't find many things you liked, which may have been because you had money with you. It always seems that whenever you don't have money, you come across the best shops.

"Do you want another slice?" Nick asked, as he was on his second slice while you had only eaten one. You nodded, folded the clothes you had bought, and put them in the bag.

"Yeah," you smiled before taking a slice. You were pleased with the toppings he chose since you enjoyed them, and so did he.

While eating, Nick scrolled through some movies on his laptop, as neither of you knew where the TV remote was. "These movies are so fucking boring. I swear on my life I've seen them all," he complained.

You chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes slightly before meeting his gaze, then shifting your attention back to the laptop he was using.

"Not all of these are boring, you know?" you remarked upon coming across some films you'd seen before but found amazing. He simply shook his head and glanced at you.

"If you don't find these boring, you're boring," he teased before switching to a different app for movies, yet they seemed to be more of the same, with a few extra films that were rather lackluster.

As rain began to patter against the window, you were so engrossed in the food and his movie choices that you hadn't even noticed.

"You've skipped over some really good films," you noted, to which he chuckled, acknowledging that he had, but expressing a desire to find something new and promising.

"Well, y/n, I'm trying to find a great movie we haven't seen yet," he declared, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box and munching on it while using his free hand to browse through the movie options on his laptop.

You had a feeling you would be staying here for years, so you tried to come up with some ideas before sitting up suddenly, which prompted him to look at you in confusion at your swift movement.

"Why don’t we create a Spotify playlist?" you suggested to your friend. He simply looked at you, then closed his laptop to avoid looking through films.

He smiled and nodded, then sat up from his bed, not as quickly as you did, and opened Spotify.

You both shared some similar music tastes, but also had some differences. There were songs you both enjoyed and others that only one of you liked.

"Okay, but what should we name it and which songs should we include?" he inquired, while you both took a moment to think and decide.

As the minutes passed and turned into hours, the rain continued to fall, steadily increasing in intensity, providing a comforting backdrop for your collaboration.

You added a mix of both your favorite songs, as well some that were more to your liking than his but he did the same, reflecting your diverse music preferences.

The playlist was over three hours long, but neither of you really paid much attention as you both just kept adding more and more songs you both liked.

As you both finished, the sky had turned dark blue, signaling that night was approaching. You leaned back on the pillows and glanced at the empty pizza box, reflecting on how much you had both eaten, until he broke the silence.

“That’s all I can think of, how about you?” he asked. You just looked at the playlist, scrolling through the songs before speaking. “Yeah.. can’t think of anything else”

He seemed pleased too. You used to have a playlist, but it was filled with songs that now seemed cringeworthy or overplayed. Creating a new one, one that he could enjoy listening to now, made him happy, and it did the same for you.

You rested your head on Nick's shoulder once he lay down on his bed and he wrapped his arm around you, then reached into his drawer to grab his AirPods instead of headphones.

“Should we give it a listen?” he asked with a grin, handing you an AirPod. You chuckled and nodded before taking it just in time for him to start playing the playlist you had spent hours creating together.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

[trilliwarner]

everything's fine 🍂

in which: chris sturniolo is your best friends and he's having some doubts about the future

pairing: chris sturniolo × f!reader

warnings: fluffy, kissing, a bit sad(?)

author's note: hiii! this is my first one, so it's probably kinda bad, but whatever. plus, english is not my first language, so please don't judge. hope you guys enjoy it!!!

"are you going to a party tonight?" i see my mother pass by the mirror in front of me, as she is putting some of my clothes on top of the dresser.

"no, why?" i look at her strangely from the mirror, without then turning around.

"you're taking so long to get ready, longer than usual. then i thought you're going to a party" she stands beside me.

"ah, no" i say merely without specifying anything else.

"so where are you going?" she gives a small smile "are you going out with the triplets? do you have to see christopher?". my mom has had this fixation since i've known the triplets, so practically forever, and she thinks there's something going on between chris and me.

"mom" i say stretching out the 'o' of the name, embarrassed.

"what is it, honey?" she giggles, playing dumb.

"go now, i have to finish getting ready" and without another word she leaves the room.

although my mom teased me, she's right. i have to go to nick, matt, and chris's house. especially for chris, but this would probably be best kept quiet.

"okay, mom, i'm going out" i say by now downstairs. i retrieve my house keys and say goodbye to her.

"don't be too late!" she recommends before i finally leave the house and close the door behind me.

i walk down the few steps of the driveway with my head down and make my way to my friends' house.

*****

ding dong, i ring the doorbell.

opening to me is nick, wearing a chef's apron. "hi y/n, welcome!" he gives me a gentle hug and then lets me into the house.

"hello beautiful" matt greets me from the living room with a smile.

"hello matt" i throw him a flying kiss and he playfully catches it with his hand and locks it in his palm.

"chris!" yells matt "y/n has arrived!"

"coming!" we hear chris shout from another room.

"what are we planning to do tonight?" i ask not aimed at anyone in particular.

"i'm making cookies" says nick, licking a finger to clean it of the dough "we could watch a movie?" he proposes.

"that's fine with me," i reply.

"i'll pick it, though!" says matt immediately, throwing himself on the couch to grab the remote before someone else does it before him.

i don't have time to retort that i am immediately drawn in by another voice. chris. "hey" chris smiles at me as he sees me. he walks over to me and pulls me into a hug "how are you?"

"alright, chris, you?" i smile too.

"i'm fine" he replies.

"okay, okay, good" he starts to say nick "lovebirds, it's okay, break away" he continues "chris come here and help me".

before breaking away from the hug he leaves a quick kiss in my hair, then joins nick in the kitchen while i join matt in the living room.

"chosen what are we going to watch?" i sit next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. he nods his head yes.

"but tell me about it" he makes to change the subject "with chris?" he looks at me.

"with chris, what?" i take the remote control in my hand and start playing with it.

"i mean" he says "between you and chris, is there something going on?"

"mh, no" i reply vaguely "why?"

"i don't know" he shrugs "it seems so" he returns his gaze to the television and neither of us adds anything else.

*****

after a good hour of watching the movie i hear chris mumble something. "what did you say?" i turn in his direction and whisper so as not to disturb the others.

"nothing" he mumbles again.

"what did you say?" i repeat, still referring to before.

"only feel like having a pepsi" rightly.

"who would have thought it" i giggle.

"shh!" admonishes nick, turning a glare on me.

"sorry, sorry" i say in a low voice. "go get one" i turn to chris, then return my attention to the screen.

not even a second later chris gets up from the couch - his obsession with pepsi is impossible to stop, it's insatiable - only he looks a little discouraged. matt and nick look at me questioningly, and i just say "he wants a pepsi" with a shrug. the two of them shake their heads and go back to watching the movie.

i take a quick glance at both of them, and i notice that matt gives me like a nod as if he has already understood my intentions. i get up pretending that i have to go to the bathroom, so that chris won't find out right away. as i pass by the kitchen i stop and see chris with a can of pepsi in his hand who is looking at the empty space in front of him.

"why don't you go back?" i ask, but he doesn't answer me. i go next to him and wait for him to say something, but nothing. he just lets out a loud sigh. "are you sure you're okay?" i look at him.

"yeah" he nods once "i'm just sleepy, i've had very little sleep tonight" he gives a tugged smile, trying to convince me that everything is fine.

"chris..." i say softly, moving back in front of him.

"do you mind if it's just the two of us here for a while?" he asks, but without making eye contact with me "the other two are too focused on watching the movie anyway."

"sure" i say "no problem."

in truth it's not true that there's no problem, i'm worried about chris. he's aloof today. something has happened for sure.

during moments of silence i move over and sit with my legs dangling over the countertop. chris takes a sip from the can and then stands in front of me. he lays the can down beside me, spreads my legs slightly and stands between them resting his hands on the sides of my thighs.

"chris" i call his attention, at which point he looks at my face. his eyes are off. "will you tell me what's going on, please? what's wrong?" i take off the red hat on his head and put it on myself.

he snorts and shakes his head. "i don't know" he lowers his head until it rests on my chest, moving both hands to my hips, and then he lets out another sigh. "i don't know what's going on" he adds.

i slowly stroke his hair. "you're sad, chris. it's not like you to be like this" i say "there must be something wrong if you're like this. don't make me worry".

"really, i don't know" he repeats and lifts his head up returning to look at me "it's kind of like that" he continues "i'm just not in the picture, that's all".

"oh, chris" i start to say "that's it? what's going on in your damn head?"

a few seconds pass before he decides to give an answer. "i happen to think that sooner or later all this, maybe, will be gone" he says "the stuff with matt and nick, the videos and the fans, my relationship with you. all of this seems too good to be true" he explains.

i sigh, continuing to look him in the eyes. does he really think about these things? "listen to me" i say "i'm not sure things will stay the way they are now, but i'm sure we'll all do everything to make sure we don't grow apart over the years, that we don't drift apart" i continue "i get to think about it too, but, chris, i try not to let that thought wallow in me. i try to think more about what we have now and how, over time, that can only get better. and that's what you need to do too" i say, trying to calm him down.

"okay" he says "alright".

"chris" i call him again "you know that if you need me, i'm always here. i'm not going anywhere without you guys, without you" i say, marking that 'you' more.

"and now come here" i then add. i spread my arms wide and he immediately pulls me into one of his amazing hugs.

he starts to leave me a few little kisses here and there and, in between them, occasionally murmurs a "thank you."

i chuckle slightly, feeling chris' kisses on my chreks. "chris" i murmur at one point.

"hmm?" he mutters as he returns to look at me, though staying very close to my face.

we peer carefully into each other's eyes, trying to guess who will be the one to take the first step between the two. we both know that this first step will be there.

a few seconds later, he is the one who moves. he comes even closer to me and with a quick jerk he is on my lips. with a gesture he drops behind my back his hat that i had on my head until just now, while i immediately and completely let go of the kiss without even thinking about it several times. i push myself further forward so that i feel more contact with him. his hands are still on my hips, while i bring my arms behind the back of his head, touching his hair.

he passes his tongue over my lips, as if asking my permission to deepen the kiss, and i don't hesitate to give him the go-ahead. and as soon as our tongues make contact i immediately feel the taste of pepsi invade my mouth. it's pleasant. more than pleasant.

"guys, what's taking you so lon-" we both gasp at hearing matthew's voice and surprised we instantly pull away, red in the face and with swollen lips. remaining close, however.

in embarrassment i rest my head in the crook of chris's neck as he turns to his brother who is still here with us.

"oops... sorry," he says under his breath, "did i interrupt something?" he chuckles. no matt, do you think so? quiet, you didn't interrupt anything at all!

"fuck, matt!" chides him chris, holding back a smile though "go away!"

"yes, yes, i'm leaving" and then i hear the sound of matt's footsteps, not before i hear a "I knew it!".

chris turns back to me and i return my gaze to him, at which point we both burst out laughing.

"that was pretty embarrassing," i say between laughs.

"I knew it would happen sooner or later" he admits.

"the kiss or matt seeing us?" i ask, intrigued by this statement.

he pretends to think about it and then replies "both."

"oh yeah?"

"mh mh" he looks at me and nods before pulling us closer and kissing me again.

"okay, okay" i let our lips touch again but then i rest a hand on his chest and gently push him away "before someone else discovers us there."

"right" he pulls away, though reluctantly. "well then" he starts to say "i'm going back to the living room".

"yes" i nod and get off the table "i'm going to go to the bathroom for a moment and then i'll join you".

"okay" he says and then disappears toward the living room.

i remain a few moments befuddled staring at the exact spot where he disappeared, thinking about what just happened. only, without even almost noticing, i feel chris' lips settle on mine again to leave me with a quick kiss in the form of a smirk.

[of-many-aus]

Rainy Baseball Days

Summary: you and jake watch some baseball together

Warnings: none

A/N: idea given by @clancycucumber230- thank you so much!!

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“You’re home early.” You didn’t even try to hide the surprise in your tone as you froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

Jake shrugged, glancing over his shoulder from where he sat on the couch, “Practice got rained out.”

You glanced down at the mug in your hand before turning on your heel and entering the kitchen area once more.

When you emerged a few moments later, you now had a mug in each hand.

“Here,” You murmured, gingerly sinking down onto the cushion beside him and offering one of the steaming cups.

His green eyes flickered down, widening the slightest bit at your outstretched arm, “Thanks,” He breathed out, gently taking the bright purple pottery piece that you made years ago with Nat, out of your hand.

You hummed, settling back into the couch and allowing your gaze to travel to the television, pleasantly surprised to see that the Red Sox vs Yankees game was already on.

“Oh, sorry,” Jake fumbled around to find the remote, “What do you want to watch-“

“This.” You interrupted him, eyes still glued to the screen, “I was actually on my way out to turn it on.”

The blond’s eyes lit up at your words, letting them linger on you for a moment as you stared intently at the screen, soaking up the game and completely oblivious to his stare. He bit back a smile as he too turned his attention back to the closeup of the Yankees batter winding up for the pitch.

“Come on,” You muttered, leaning forward in your seat, “Strike him out, let’s go.”

“You’re rooting for the Red Sox, Angel?” Jake's head whipped over to you in mock alarm.

A scoff left your lips. The man braced himself to be snapped at for using that ridiculous- your words, not his- nickname again.

“They’re not my main team, but they’re sure as hell better than the Yankees.”

He blinked once at you, watching as you stared intently at him, completely serious, before a grin grew on his face.

“That is definitely not true,” He argued playfully, “Yankees could beat that team any day.”

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips quirked up the slightest bit, “Like they are right now?” You motioned to the 3-1 score.

His face now held a dazzling grin, as if he was no longer able to hold it back, “It’s only the second inning, Angel, we’ve still got a ways to go.” He tried to hide his obvious delight- whether it was from being able to discuss baseball, or finally being able to talk to you, neither of you seemed to know- by raising the mug to his lips and taking a long sip, only to quickly pull it away with raised eyebrows, “Hot chocolate?” He asked.

You nodded in all seriousness, “It’s my favorite drink, and it’s cold and rainy out, so it’s perfect. Not to mention that it’s too late in the day to have coffee. You’ll never sleep.”

He hummed, taking a long sip of the chocolatey drink. Jake couldn’t even remember the last time he had this. Perhaps it was back when he was a kid and his mother would make it for him and his sisters on a cold winter night.

And then it began. The back and forth bickering that had no real venom behind it, long debates about all the different MLB teams and which one was really the best based on players and past plays.

It was by far the longest you had ever talked to Jake, and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. Nat had never shown any interest in baseball, except for when she dragged you to Jake's game a week ago, and none of your other friends knew the first thing about it and didn’t care enough to learn or actually sit through a game with you. Talking about it with him was actually refreshing.

It wasn’t until the seventh inning that things finally quieted down between you two, hot chocolate long since finished and each team in the league thoroughly discussed, when you felt your eyelids begin to droop.

You tried to fight it- you really did- but you had a long day with your classes, and your efforts to stay awake rendered useless when you curled up farther into the seat cushion and your tired state won over.

It only took Jake a total of three minutes to look back over at you, mouth open and ready to fire a question about the play that just took place, only for it to snap shut at the sight of your relaxed- and very much asleep- form.

Your breathing had evened out and your head was lulled slightly to the side.

His smile softened as he looked at you and he moved to stand up, but you shifted in your sleep, rolling so that your face was pressed directly on his bicep.

Jake froze, breath hitching in his throat when you showed no sign of stirring from your slumber, and he allowed himself to relax.

He reached over and gently lay a throw blanket from nearby on top of you and turned his attention back to the game.

Taglist: @djs8891 @pono-pura-vida @shanimallina87 @melllinaa @callsignbirdy @fogle97 @randomfandomgirl97 @averyhotchner @blueoorchid @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misconceptionmistress @ravenclawaddict5285 @j-brielmalfoy @waywardhunter95 @classyunknownlover @whoreforfictionalmen18

[back2bluesidex]

Spotlight - MYG

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi X Reader

Theme: Angst, Pining, Fluff, friends to lovers au.

Word count: 1574

Summary: No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.

Warning: Unrequited feelings, sort of insecure reader, pining and that's all. It is SFW. (However, still, I don't want minors to interact with my blog!! So, Minors do not interact!!)

**********************

“How does it feel to always be under the spotlight?” your words are followed by a sigh that escapes your lips without your notice. Your eyes get lost at the darkest corners of the vast concert venue. Do you try to find something glistening in the dark? Or do you just want to rest your eyes away from all the glistening lights that hovers above your head, beside you, before you, oh hell, all around you? You have no idea. 

Actually you do. Deep down you want to avoid his gaze, the gaze that makes you nervous, the gaze that you crave but can’t have. The gaze that makes you feel emotions that are forbidden for you. 

“Depends,” Yoongi replies quietly as he averts his eyes from your figure and follows your line of sight. This time you let your eyes fall on him, sitting just beside you. 

“On what?” you ask again. 

“On your mood. Um.. sometimes how you want to take it, I suppose?” he trails off. 

“It can be calming at times and daunting at others.” he finishes his answer. 

You dwell upon his answer. You don’t know how it is even remotely possible to feel calm under the glaring spotlight while thousands of eyes stay on you solely. You never liked attention and neither do you have the guts to face it. Initially you thought Yoongi was the same. The quiet, pale and mysterious boy from your class that got along with you and only with you, seemed to hate attention, chaos, pandemonium just like you. That was until he left to pursue his dream. That was until he left you behind. That was until you came to realize he was not just your friend. 

Now you know better. Now you know Yoongi is capable of handling everything he hates and transforming those into his power, unlike you. Now you know you and Yoongi are different and that is one of the million reasons why you can’t be together. You can’t be his. 

“Do I look extra handsome today?” Yoongi murmurs and only then you realize you have been staring at him for longer than you should. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah. You look handsome everyday.” you smile at his figure. 

“You don’t see me everyday, Y/N” Yoongi teases. 

“That is because you are a celebrity now, Yoongi. And I am a common civilian.” you reply, trying to hide the underlying hint of angst in your words. 

“But I am still your friend.” He interjects. Your eyes find his pair again.

“And I am grateful for that.” You say shyly. There is no hidden meaning behind this one. You really are grateful for a friend like Yoongi, who went out of his way and found out your number, contacted you after a solid three years of having no ties. You are grateful that he always seemed so keen on having you in one of his concerts, which you never made to, until today. You're grateful that he keeps you on his check, be it a text or a call or a video call once or twice a month, he comes back to you, while the plans of meetups fade behind your useless excuses and his demanding schedule. 

So, this is the first time you are seeing him after he left highschool. This is the first time you are meeting him after being in a sort of long distance friendship. And seeing him feels amazing but it's painful regardless. 

This pain is the reason why you avoided meeting him for so long. You knew the fact that your and Yoongi's worlds are now completely different, would hurt you beyond words once you see it with your own eyes, once you feel it through your own skin rather than the convenient glass barrier of technology. 

But you can't take it anymore. You need to move on from something so unrequited in order to sum up your life. You're already in your thirties and it's the time you start thinking of settling down, with a dog or with a husband, you don't really care. So, you agreed to accept the VIP ticket for the D-Day tour the moment Yoongi approached you. 

For Yoongi, it was probably a chance to see his long lost friend, but for you it was an ending note to a letter you never started writing. 

"You're just as beautiful as I remember… if not more." Yoongi remarks, eyes staying still on yours. You don't dwell on the flush of red that appears on his cheeks, not when you are in the same condition. 

"Haha. Thanks." You laugh it off. 

You un-fold your position, extending your limbs to stretch. Your hands move back to balance the weight of your body as you close your eyes tilting your head back. 

"I mean it. You are so beautiful. You have always been." Yoongi says again. 

You open your eyes and turn your head towards him to gauge his expression. You don't see any hint of a joke. He is serious, rather he has some kind of determination glinting behind his dark eyes. 

"For me, the spotlight has always rested upon you." Yoongi says as he moves his hands in a way that his fingertips are brushing with yours. 

Your world stops for a moment as you try to decipher what he is trying to say. Is it what you think it is or are you just overthinking? 

"On me? What?" You try to laugh it off again.

"For how long will you pretend, Y/N?" He asks, serious and stoic. 

"What do you mean, Yoongi?" You say as you try to get up and head towards the backstage. 

But Yoongi holds your wrist and stops you from getting up. 

"You know what I mean." His voice is quiet but demanding.

"Isn't it the time for your soundcheck or whatever you guys call it?" You try to avoid whatever is happening. 

"Don't change the topic! Don’t avoid it anymore! You have done enough!" His hold in your wrist goes tighter. 

“Yoongi-” 

“No! Listen to me today. I have never said anything when you never once responded to my invitations, when you give baseless excuses to avoid seeing me. But that does not mean it never hurts me, it does not bother me seeing you ignoring my advances, my feelings.” Yoongi cuts you off and says in a breath. 

“Can’t you see, Y/N? Can’t you see that I am in love with you?” he pauses, “You are intelligent enough to find out the reasons why I reached out to you after all those years and why I keep coming back to you. You know it all, Y/N, and yet you choose to avoid me. Is it because I was wrong and you don’t feel the same?” 

Your vision turns blurry and you don’t know what to say. 

“I- I mean-” he cuts you off with his lips this time. His kiss is soft and slow. Neither does he give you any lingering touches nor does he try to probe into your mouth. He only kisses as if he does not want to hear what you have to say. You kiss him back as if to assure him. Holding him by his neck and pulling him close to your embrace, you give in. You kiss him with all the pent up feelings, emotions, fears, everything and everything else. That’s when he understands that you are on the same page as him, he was never wrong, you love him just as much. His kiss now turns passionate as he pulls you towards him and sits you up on his lap. 

You both are panting when you part your lips from each other. A lone strand of hair falls on your eyes, Yoongi reaches for it and places it behind your ears. A simple act, yet so intimate. You are happy… until reality comes rushing back to you. 

“Is.. is this right? Do I even deserve this? Do I deserve you, Yoongi?” You let your fears come out. For the first time in more than a decade, you want to be vocal about your feelings. You want to communicate. 

“I know it is scary, Y/N. Dating an idol is tough and I can’t promise you sunshine and rainbows all the time. but I am ready to work it out and make it right. Our worlds might be different from each other now but I am just the same. I am the same Min Yoongi you approached for help in your music assignment. I am the same Daegu boy that took you to your favourite Tteobokki stall after school hours, I am the same boy you shared your beer with, I am the same person you fell in love with. I have not changed, neither have my love and adoration for you. I believe we can work it out. Let's just give it a try.” Yoongi’s eyes are glassy and full of untold emotions. You know he is unable to say as much as he feels, just like you. So you nod and dive in for a hug. 

“Let’s do it.” you murmur in his neck. As you let your heart win against your mind for the first time. You are ready to fall and break if it means Yoongi will be there with you. Yoongi will be finally yours even for a short span of time. 

*********************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie

[impactdial]

(a small drabble that was apart of something else i was writing that i unfortunately dropped but i thought it was still kinda funny. anyway, come get your sanuso crumbs, truthers!)

The next incident doesn’t happen until a few weeks later. 

Sanji had sat on a stool by the lawn while peeling and slicing a medley of vegetables, chewing on his smoldering cigarette as he worked. Everyone was already on the deck by the time Sanji thought to have a smoke as he finished up preparations for tonight’s dinner, and he glanced up occasionally to idly watch them.

Luffy played a game of charades with Brook and Chopper on the lawn, the latter guessing heartily when he wasn't squealing with laughter. Nami was busily marking up several maps while popping freshly cut fruit into her mouth as she worked (courtesy of their curly cook, of course). Franky seemed to be tinkering with some kind of prototype, enthusiastically chatting with Robin.

Sanji sighed, exhaling a thin smoky plume. He felt content. This felt right, their own established norm. 

Right before his mind could drift further, he saw Nami approaching with her empty bowl. He straightened his posture as he tossed quartered potatoes into a colander, hastily wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“Did you enjoy your fruit, my dear?” Sanji crooned cheerily, feeling his chest flutter when their navigator nodded and returned his smile.

“Yes, very much! Thank you, Sanji,” Nami replied, handing the bowl to him. Sanji felt pleasantly warm when she leaned on his shoulder ever so slightly, observing his work. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Oh, I could never ask you to dirty your pretty hands with this!” Sanji insisted sweetly, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. He gestured to the uncut vegetables in a paper bag by his feet. “Usopp’s supposed to be helping me with the rest of these.” 

There’s a comfortable pause, with Nami just watching with mild fascination as Sanji sliced the peel from a potato in a single, unbroken line before cutting it free.

“Speaking of which,” Sanji began, tossing the freshly peeled potato aside and starting the process anew,”Have you seen Longnose? If I find out he’s ditched–”

Nami laughed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think he’s still working out with Zoro. I’ll go get him if you want.”

Sanji paused peeling for a moment. He lifted his head a touch to glance up at the navigator, waiting for a punchline that never came. The cook chewed his cigarette harder when neither of them spoke. She just looked at him with a knowing, sly expression.

“Since when? How long's he been doing that?” Sanji asked skeptically, trying not to scowl as he resumed his careful peeling. Usopp, who would cling to Sanji nearly in tears as he begged for protection, joining shitty moss-for-brains in his musclehead shenanigans? He’d be more likely to hurt Usopp than do anything remotely helpful for him, knowing the brute. 

Nami shrugged, combing her fingers through her loose, fiery hair before tossing it over her shoulder. 

“For a while now, I guess.” She hummed, her eyes trained on Sanji thoughtfully. “He looks good, huh? Real good. So handsome!”

Sanji squared his shoulders stiffly. Despite knowing there’s no denying Nami’s words, he couldn’t help but smolder a little with jealousy for her praise.

“Oh, Usopp!” 

Nami waved enthusiastically over to their sniper, who had just appeared on the deck trailing behind Zoro from their presumed workout, if the dampness of the form fitting tank top he was wearing was anything to go by. Sanji floundered, especially when Nami squeezed his shoulder as Usopp jogged over and his chest noticeably bounced. If it weren’t for Nami holding him in place, Sanji would’ve quickly retreated. 

“Hey!” Usopp greeted brightly before his gaze shifted over to Sanji and realization suddenly crossed his features, looking guilty. “Oh! Shit, sorry, I got caught up with Zoro. I can peel–”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sanji said curtly, avoiding looking directly at Usopp. He had already peeled five carrots by the time Usopp had jogged over.

“Actually, Usopp, would you move that crate into the pantry for us?” Nami asked sweetly. Usopp just raised a thick eyebrow at her, looking between his two crew mates like he’s trying to decipher the situation.

“Oh, um, sure? The one by the kitchen door?” 

“Yep, that’s the one!” 

Sanji finally afforded himself a glance as he witnessed their once scrawny sniper lift the heavy crate easily, no falter in his step as he disappeared into the galley and the mental image of visible back muscles shifting under glistening brown skin lasts every time Sanji blinked.

Nami merely smiled, patting the cook’s tense shoulder. “You’re welcome.” 

Sanji involuntarily choked, cigarette dropping from his now gaping mouth as he stared widely in shock at the still grinning Nami. His face felt impossibly hot when she tapped a finger under his chin and his jaw quickly snapped shut.

He couldn't think of anything to say as he watches Nami return to her maps, inner thoughts that consisted of nothing but Usopp's so- Why is he- Why can't I look away? making it difficult to argue otherwise.

By the time he manages to compose himself, Sanji realized in frustration he had unintentionally peeled every last vegetable in the bag. 

[chahnniesroom]

tenderness | epilogue: jet lag

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 1.3k

chapter warnings: none :)

a/n: i really cannot believe i'm saying this, but here's the last part of tenderness! thank you so so much to everyone who has interacted with this story in any way. i apologise for the fact that sometimes i take a while to reply, but know i treasure each and every comment, reply, tag, and like that i have received. i couldn't have done it without you all!

i am working on two other fics, so if you like my writing, please stay tuned!

previous chapter | masterlist | read it on ao3

When you had initially heard that there would be a three week break between the Tokyo concerts and the North American leg of the tour, you had been surprised. You knew it was partly due to predetermined schedules, but it had seemed like such a long break between shows.

Now you're more than grateful for the extra time it gave you to rest and recover. Your health has significantly improved in that time. For the first time in weeks you’re no longer exhausted, all your concussion symptoms have disappeared, and your wounds have mostly healed. The stitches are still tender and if you move too quickly or laugh too hard then it pulls at the healing muscle and skin, but you feel comfortable walking around slowly without any pain. 

Since your doctor still advised that you avoid carrying anything remotely heavy, all of the boys have been refusing to let you do any housework and spending as much time with you as they can. You would have thought that the constant company would become suffocating, especially with the way they hover any time that you move, but surprisingly you don’t mind. Since you’d been forced to be independent for your whole childhood, it kind of feels nice to be doted on like this.

The eagerness to assist in any physical tasks means that packing for the trip consists of you directing Chan on what you want to bring and the two of you are finished in no time. It’s a relief since somehow neither of you had even started until the evening before you're scheduled to leave.

Once you’re changed for the flight and head out of Chan’s room, Hyunjin and Changbin are already there. Hyunjin is sprawled out on one of the couches with an arm draped over his eyes to block the light while Changbin is rummaging through the cupboards.

“Oh, where’s Jisung?” you ask, not waiting for an answer before you start making your way towards his room. “I’ll go check to see if he’s ready to go.”

You knock on his closed door, then ease it open when you don’t get a reply. Jisung is sitting on the side of the bed, head in his hands. The curtains are drawn which means that he’s shrouded in shadows. His bags are packed and placed near the door, but he makes no effort to move.

“Jisung,” you call. When he doesn’t respond, you soften your tone and try again. “Jisungie.”

He looks up at that, revealing bloodshot eyes and lips that have been bitten raw. It’s obvious that he hasn’t been able to sleep and you mentally kick yourself for not anticipating this. Jisung has always hated airports the most out of all the members and you know that past events have likely worsened any travel related anxiety that he already had.

You step forward and bend over slightly to pat his head, then smooth your hand over so that it rests on his shoulder. He leans into your touch at first, then his eyes widen in realisation.

“Noona, you should be sitting! It’s not good for you to bend like that,” he says, tugging on your arm so that you settle on the bed beside him. His touches are light, as they have been for the past few days, like he’s afraid of hurting you.

“It’s okay, really. The doctors have said that I’ve been healing well and I’ve been cleared for travel,” you reassure him.

“I don’t want to go,” Jisung confesses. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen when we leave.”

“Yonghwan told you guys the plan, right?” You loop your arm into his and lean your head against his shoulder. “They’ve got everything prepared so that there won’t be any fans when we leave. We’re not going to be at Incheon today, we’re taking a private flight, the official schedule that was released shows we’ll be leaving in a couple of days, and there’s going to be enough security that even if there were to be any fans, they wouldn’t be able to come close.”

“I know that they’re doing all that stuff, but it’s not making me feel better. It’s so dumb,” he says in a broken voice. “I’m sorry, noona. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You were the one that got hurt last time, so why am I freaking out?”

“Hey, no. Last time was a scary experience for all of you, even without what happened to me. It’s natural that you’re feeling anxious, I know that I’m a little bit nervous too.”

"I guess," Jisung agrees reluctantly. "I just wish I didn't feel like this."

“It’s hard,” you agree. “But you’re excited for the concerts, right? At least there’s something to look forward to in the next few weeks. I’m finally going to get a chance to see you guys from the crowd instead of backstage!”

“Really?” Jisung seems to perk up at that. “Don’t tell me where you’re going to be, I want to look out for you!”

“They didn’t tell me yet, so I can’t even share if I want to, but I think it’ll be a pretty good seat.”

“Are you going to make a sign? I can help make one with you at the hotel! I know exactly what it should say.” Han pretends to write out a poster. “‘‘Han Jisung is the Best!’ I think it’d be perfect!”

"Hm, I’m not too sure about if I want to be holding a sign, especially one with that on it," you say. You’re partially amused, mostly relieved that he seems to be in a better mood. “But first, we have to get there. Let’s go, I think the car is going to be picking us up soon.”

—

Your flight is scheduled for extremely early in the morning, a purposefully awkward time that serves as an added layer of protection against any fans trying to catch the group’s departure. The sun hasn’t even risen by the time you leave the dorms, but at least there’s not a single person around other than staff or security when you make it to the airport.

The flight is uneventful, although you really appreciate that the private plane means that you don’t have to be concerned about trying to hide your relationship with Chan. The two of you get to sit beside each other which makes it significantly easier to make up for the fact that you spent time packing instead of Charging last night.

You wake up as the plane starts to descend, the changes in pressure causing your ears to pop. You were slightly nervous at the airport this morning, but now your anxious thoughts have come back even worse. Your stomach churns and your heart rate starts to pick up. Logically, you know that everything will be fine, but your body doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo.

As if reading your mind, Chan reaches out and laces your fingers together even though your palms have gone clammy. His thumb traces steady circles that help to distract your thoughts for a while, but your breathing still hitches when the plane lands. You go stiff when the seatbelt sign blinks off and all the other members start getting ready to leave.

Chan tightens his hand around yours reassuringly. Somehow, it manages to squeeze the tension out of you. It’s not just the gesture or the Charge that makes you feel better. Just his presence is enough to comfort you.

"Hey," he says softly, "No matter what, I'll be here with you."

You know it's true. Even after all that the two of you have been through, even after all of the pain, the tears, the heartache, you trust him. 

With Chan by your side you feel safe, protected, cared for.

You feel loved.

previous chapter | masterlist | read it on ao3

[muldermuse]

love love loving the Two Sinners series! Best I’ve read! Keep it up!!

Wondering what would happen if they got one of those remote controlled vibrators that can be controlled by the other one.

Maybe they can’t see each other for a while so reader wears it all day and gets an unexpected surprise at at awkward moment OR Gator inserts it and reader is in control OR they are both at some event in public and are controlling the devices just to fuck with each other.

CHURCH POT LUCK

CHURCH POT LUCK

CHURCH. POT. LUCK.

nsfw below the cut. mdni. <3

you'd seen Gator quickly in the morning, he was on the overnight shift so could visit you before heading home to Glenda. whenever he came to see you at the ass crack of dawn, he'd always have to decency to drop off a black mcdonalds coffee (he always plays it off that he drank a gatorade and couldn't finish it but really it's because he knows that it's your fav cheap takeaway coffee)

he fucks you so soft and slow on mornings like this. you're both exhausted and using all your remaining energy to make the other feel good. he kisses deep into your mouth to swallow your soft whines for him. his breath is hot against your neck, leaving soft bites against your neck; damp with both of your perspiration. "thought about this all fuckin' night long", it's mumbled quietly against your skin. you both smile to yourselves. neither of you last long and usually, Gator would fall asleep wrapped around you for an hour before heading home. but today he's scrabbling off you to get dressed- it's the Church Pot Luck. the event that takes over his home life because Glenda fucking loves it.

he's lost in his thoughts as he shoves his feet into his boots. considering how he won't be able to sleep when he gets home, how Glenda will have him tasting her bland soup for confirmation of how good it was and how his Father would criticise him for not helping enough. a sudden vibration behind his ear pulled him from his thoughts.

"what the fuck is that?" he sounds exasperated, which is not the mood you wanted to go for at all.

"it's a toy for us, to make the pot luck more bearable" you've wrapped your blanket around yourself, deciding that you'll probably stay in bed naked until it's time to get dressed.

Gator shakes his head, "'s always fuckin' somethin' on this day- you're not even a fuckin' part of the church. why do you go? just to make me miserable?". You grin and nod as you press a quick kiss to his cheek. He smiles despite himself.

you drop the blanket and crawl into the middle of the bed, sliding the small but sleek silicone vibrator inside you. that feeling alone has you flustered and you're trying to stifle a moan before you can speak. "it's a remote control vibrator, that pink thing on the table? it controls the vibrations" you drop your voice to sound as subby as possible, "jus' want you to be in control today, Sir". a deep red flush crosses his complexion as he squeezes his hardening cock through his boxers.

"baby, i don't have time for this i gotta go" he heads out as you shout at him if he doesn't want to use it, you'll invite another date instead.

he texts you 15 minutes later, telling you to wear the vibe.

you reply a few hours later as you pull up to the potluck simply saying, do your worst.

***

you sneak into the potluck. you don't want to draw attention to yourself. a few colleagues from work are standing in a corner and wave you over. they hand you a cup of spiked punch that you sip slowly; trying to calm your nerves. you blend into the conversation seamlessly, almost forgetting about the pink toy nestled against your walls.

until it turns on. it's like a lightning bolt.

you'd neglected to mention to Gator that it has a variety of settings. he didn't just have to turn up it to 11. i mean you had told him to do his worse. what makes it worse, is that everyone notices. your friends crowd around you and talk over each other as the vibrations continue, "oh my god are you okay?", "lemme grab you a chair" and "is this your back again?". you reassure them that you're fine and grab another cup of the sickly sweet spiked punch. you try to focus on the false coconut of the malibu rather than how close you're getting to cumming in this church.

then, it stops.

you take the respite to seek out your tormentor. Gator's arm is around Glenda's waist but his eyes are locked on yours. he's smirking at you, your eyes follow his hand into his pocket and you immediately feel the vibrations start again. it feels more intense than before, if you were alone in your room you'd be screaming. you keep staring at Gator as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

he does this agonising routine throughout the event until finally- you have to sneak into the bathroom and make yourself cum. your hand trembles as you pull the lock across, you softly moan as you pull your underwear down your trembling legs whilst the vibrations continue. you try not to look at yourself in the small mirror hanging above the sink. the cool touch of the sink contrasts the burning touch of your body.

you're so close to the edge, that you're finally allowing yourself to be lost in the overwhelming sensation. and then, again, it stops.

you cry out like you're in pain. there's a small knock on the door and you hear Gator's hushed voice tell you to open the door.

once he's in the cramped room with you, he's quick to put his hand around your throat and he takes your damp underwear in his other hand. a chaste kiss is placed against your forehead as he whispers, "'m gonna make you cum now okay baby? but i've gotta put these in your mouth to make sure you stay quiet. such a loud girl for me aren't you?". your nod is desperate as he pushes your panties past your lips, you savour the tangy taste of your own arousal. Gator quickly pulls your tits out of your dress and runs this thumb and forefinger against your pebbled nipples.

you look at his reflection as the vibration starts again. it's all too much, his strong hand around your throat, your own fucked reflection in the mirror, the panties in your mouth, and the changing pressure on your nipples. it hits you so fucking hard and it feels so fucking good. your legs are shaking, and your whole body is quivering as you see Gator smirk in the mirror at the sight before him.

he switches it off once you've come down, he kisses you, and takes the wet panties from your mouth. he mutters a quiet "fuck" as he slips them into his pocket and leaves without saying goodbye.