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eringobragh420 · 2 months ago

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💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 💜 Summary: Damian’s girlfriend is producing a piece on him. He decides to produce a piece of his own. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Roleplay, name-calling, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), cum. 18+ 💜 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! 💜 Taglist: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend, @terrortwinunicorn. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 💜 Requested By: @eddiesrockstargirlfriend. Hope you enjoy! Sorry it took so long 😭😭

“Alright, guys. I’m Damian Priest. Thanks for watching.” He threw up his index and pinky fingers just before his girlfriend pressed the button on the expensive camera to stop it recording.

“Outstanding,” she praised. Kneeling on the soft, white carpet of their home, she sat back on her legs as she played the footage back on the screen to be sure nothing weird was in the frame, and that the sound levels were normal and Damian’s voice came through clearly. WWE had tasked her as a producer (and probably because the two had been dating for a year) to create an intimate look into Damian’s private life. Which hadn’t been much, considering neither of them were in any hurry to show off their personal lives to the entire world. Despite this, she knew she had a good product. “Looks like we got it.”

“Yeah?” Damian asked. “Let me see.” She handed him the camera and busied herself with packing the camera’s accessories into the bag beside her. After a moment, she realized the only sound in the room was coming from the constant hum of the air conditioner. Glancing up at Damian, he held the camera in both hands, eyes on the screen as if he were watching the playback, but she didn’t hear his voice.

“Are you watching it?” she asked. “Is the sound not working?”

“It’s fine,” he replied, distracted. “I’m watching … you know …” He trailed off, eyes narrowing, focused.

Her own eyes blinked down at the camera’s lens, brows furrowed. “Is that zoom—are you recording?” she exclaimed. Damian grinned behind the camera, shoulders shaking as he chuckled, and he leaned this way and that as if he were some famous director with a particular vision. “Do I really have to tell you that the camera isn’t a toy?” she teased, dropping her hands on her hips.

“Aww, querida, you know that’s not true,” Damian purred, his tone hitting that one level, the special one, the one that drew her to him like a moth to a flame. “Everything’s a toy if you play with it.”

“So, by that logic …” She leaned forward, bringing her hands to the floor, and she started to crawl toward Damian “I’m a toy.”

“My toy,” Damian sneered.

Her mouth quirked. “Your toy,” she corrected. Damian spread his legs wider to accept her between them, and she tucked her own legs under her like she’d been sitting before.

“And right now—” He reached out, able to hold the lightweight camera with one hand, and cupped her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb. “—I wanna make my toy into a pornstar.”

All the oxygen left her lungs in an audible whoosh, her heart kicking up its pace. Before she could give the idea much thought, and before she could process the fact they would be using a WWE-issued camera, she nuzzled into the palm of his hand, pressing a few chaste kisses there before licking the heel, all the way up his thumb where she enveloped the digit in her mouth.

“That’s it,” Damian said, pumping his thumb leisurely in and out of her mouth. “You like that idea, don’t you?” She watched as the twinkling stars always present in Damian Priest’s ochre eyes were devoured by growing black holes, and she’d have given anything to see just beyond his event horizon. “You wanna be a pretty little pornstar?” She nodded, eyes round and clear, mouth still working on his thumb. “Good girl,” he praised, and her heart melted, eyes falling closed. “But you gotta audition first.” Her eyes opened just as slowly as they’d closed, meeting his gaze. “You understand?” He removed his thumb from her mouth, and while she was able to speak now, she couldn’t find the words within her hazy, lust-filled brain, so she simply nodded again. Damian tilted his head, “Now take my cock out and show me why you’re better than all the other girls I’ve met this week.”

She admired—and was a little envious of—how easily he was able to go from her loving, devoted boyfriend to the intimidating, apparently manwhore porn director that now sat before her. How he was able to come up with roleplay ideas off the top of his head and was confident enough to act them out as if the scenario was real-world.

“Corazón,” Damian said, “don’t make me tell you again.”

Her hands reached up to work on his belt and jeans, glancing up at the camera, biting her lip, and all she could see of Damian behind the camera were those black eyes. Reaching inside his jeans, she unleashed his semi-hard cock, a grin working its way across her mouth. She loved the challenge of getting him as hard as possible as quickly as possible and she wondered how much assistance the camera was going to give her in said endeavor. Lifting her gaze back to the camera, she engulfed his entire dick in her mouth, a feat she could only achieve before he was fully erect. She dragged her lips back slowly, cheeks collapsing as her mouth created a vacuum, and Damian let loose a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Damn,” he said, “you just go all in, huh?”

She released him with an indecent pop, licking her lips even more lewdly. “Go big or go home, right?” she purred.

“Back in your mouth,” he ordered.

She obeyed, because she loved to obey him, and because she really, really wanted this fake pornstar job. She sucked him back into her searing mouth, lips now stretching around him, bobbing her head. The distinct sound of the head of his dick poking into the back of her throat—that wet, smacking sound—echoed off the walls of their bedroom. Damian cried out, hand slipping around the back of her head, and he fisted a handful of her hair. She grunted, sending vibrations down his cock and into his balls, allowing him to control the pace, which continuously increased. She squeezed his thighs for stability, looking up at him just as tears fell from both eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

“Fuck yeah,” Damian groaned. Her scalp was going numb and her throat was sore and she was drooling all over herself, all over his cock, and, pornstar or not, she never wanted to lose the role of his toy. “Fucking love this, don’t you?” he breathed. “You’d do it even if you weren’t getting paid, huh?” He impaled her throat, holding her there, moaning and mumbling obscenities every time she coughed or gagged. “Puta de mierda.”

He released her, and she yanked herself back, gulping for air, choking on the excess saliva. She was positive she was an absolute mess right now, and it wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined looking the first time they recorded themselves, but this was them. Rough, hot, dirty, needy, and greedy. Damian jerked his soaked cock as she caught her breath, and after a moment, her mouth was back on him, sucking on the head as he continued to stroke.

“I bet you’re wet as fuck chokin’ on this dick,” he went on.

Matter of fact, she was, and, though her mind was foggy, she thought this might have been the first time she’d even noticed her own arousal. So focused had she been on pleasing Damian and getting the job, she didn’t remember once squeezing her thighs for relief. Flexing one thigh and then the other, she readily felt the slickness between her folds and she whined around Damian’s cock.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought,” he snarled. He pulled his dick from her mouth, slapping her cheek with it. “You know I gotta taste that pussy, right?” Breathless, the producer on her knees at the mercy of the World Heavyweight Champion once more could only nod. “Get up here, on your back.”

Damian stepped out of her way, and she climbed onto the bed, rolling onto her back. She reached up to wipe her face off, not able to get much before her boyfriend shoved the camera into her hands. She was turning it around and about to adjust the screen so she would more easily be able to see what she was recording while holding the camera above her when Damian snatched the waistband of her leggings and wrenched them down her thighs. He then shoved her knees to her chest, legs still trapped in spandex, and she felt him rip aside her thong a millisecond before his tongue delved deep into her folds.

“Jesus Christ,” she cried, crossing one ankle over the other. She still maintained a grip on the camera, but where it was pointed she had no idea, as her eyes snapped shut and she thought for a second she did see Jesus Christ.

“Goddamn,” Damian burst. “Goddamn you taste good.” She whimpered, feeling the pad of his finger slide from the top of her clit to the bottom, and then she heard the very recognizable sound of him sucking his finger clean. He tugged the leggings the rest of the way off, tossing them over his shoulder, and then he crossed his arms, grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands, and smoothly lifted it over his head.

As Damian stood there in all his el campeón glory, his girlfriend fumbled with the camera, barely getting a shot of him before he grabbed her legs, spread them, and dove face first into her pussy. He licked and sucked with reckless abandon, nipped at her clit, and had her a writhing, sobbing mess almost immediately. A few times she struggled to keep her eyes open so she could watch the screen on the camera, watch Damian devour a bare, glistening pussy, watch the sex tape unfold in real time.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she divulged, gripping the sheets with her free hand. “I’m gonna cum …” Damian groaned, somehow digging deeper in her pussy, his long tongue slipping inside her. And just as she was about to tumble over the edge, Damian was gone, her pussy suddenly cold and unstimulated. She lifted her head and moved the camera.

“What, you think we’re here for you?” Damian snarled, hands on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his chiseled chest to his swollen, weeping cock, and she unknowingly licked her lips. “Roll over,” he nodded at her, fisting his dick. Damian took the camera from her, and she rolled onto her stomach. “Up on your hands and knees.” She complied, body popping up on all fours, knees spreading, and he was on her instantly, slapping his cock on her ass. “I’m comin’ in raw,” he growled, and while she already knew this to be the case, hearing him say it in this scenario utterly flooded her pussy, and she whined. She pressed back against him. Damian chuckled, deep and throaty, much like villains in the superhero movies. He pulled her pink thong to the side, squeezing her ass cheek. “All you bitches are the same. Look at me.” She glimpsed him over her shoulder, sighing, still unable to believe she’d landed such a god among men in the first place. He held the camera at chest level and it was trained on her. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”

“Please fuck me,” she whispered. “I don’t care if you pay me—” He slid his cock back and forth along her dripping slit, coating it in her slick, and then he slipped it between her ass cheeks, continuing the same motion. “I don’t care if I get the job.” Damian’s eyes met hers, and in her peripheral, she saw him adjust the angle of the camera. “I just need you to fuck me. Please?”

Damian grinned, shaking his head, and he sheathed his entire cock inside her, shoving her forward onto her elbows, and she yelped. On any other day, he’d have stretched her to prepare her for his size, but not this Damian. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he roared, pulling almost completely out before shoving himself inside again, repeating the action a few times. He reached over her and placed the camera on the bed in front of her. She twisted the screen to see what was in the frame, and it was her in the foreground, bent over, Damian behind her, the material of her pink thong wrapped around his hand. “Maybe you’ll get the job after all.” He fucked her earnestly now, a steady, pounding pace. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Please,” she whined.

“Say it,” he said. “I know you want it … I wanna hear you fucking say it.”

“God,” she whimpered, “cum inside me. Please cum inside me.” Damian grunted, his thrusts becoming more powerful, faster. “I need it,” she continued, not sure if she was laying it on so thickly for her boyfriend or the camera. “I don’t need the job, I just need your fucking cum.”

“Fuck!” Damian shouted. One final pump and he was unloading inside of her.

She laid her head on the mattress and looked at the camera, satisfied and smiling, reveling in the sensation of his cock contracting within her. “Thank you,” she purred.

Damian grabbed the camera, and she looked at him over her shoulder again. She giggled, shivering, as he probed her pussy with his fingers. “Look at that,” he said, and at the moment, she felt his cum seep out of her hole and down her slit. “Good girl.” He stood up, jeans and belt still hanging loosely on his hips. “Now get out. I got more interviews.”

�� Querida - Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment 🎀 Corazón - Sweetheart 🎀 Puta de mierda - Fucking slut

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #damian priest #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #smut #damian priest smut #damian priest kinklist #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe smut

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

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Strawberry Soju

🎶 I don’t need another shot of you, but I got to, my strawberry soju 🎶

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre: college au, enemies-to-lovers

Word Count: ~7.0k

cw: asshole!Eren, fratboy!Eren, subby!Eren, blowjob, cunnilingus, face riding, multiple orgasms, cowgirl, unprotected sex, alcohol, language.

Summary: Two weeks before graduation, you are finally done with your senior project. This calls for a celebration with your team, including the person who annoys you the most: Eren Jaeger. The two of you learn to put your differences aside for one night, starting with a bottle of strawberry soju.

Notes: All characters are seniors in college (21-22 years old), engineering majors. Eren is a frat boy, so some details from my series Rush will be used, but no correlation to that story. Inspired by the song “Strawberry Soju”, which I’ve been obsessed with for the past two weeks. I had a lot of fun with this, so I hope you enjoy! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated, thank you so much!

“And now, we are proud to present the winner of this year’s Senior Project Showcase: Team Titan! For their omni-directional mobility gear, designed for construction workers in the field to ensure safety whilst elevated hundreds of feet in the air! Bravo, Team Titan! Bravo!”

Professor Pyxis’s announcement leaves you and your group flabbergasted. Sasha and Connie both have their jaws dropped. Eren, who sits beside you, throws his fist in the air, exclaiming, “Oh hell yeah!” You stay in your seat, in total shock.

Pyxis stares fondly at the four of you, beckoning you towards the stage in the main engineering lecture hall. “Don’t be shy, my young engineers, come here to accept your award!” Hesitantly, you all make your way behind the podium, a polite round of applause from the other students and faculty echoing throughout the room.

Nearly an entire semester of work has led to this. Five months of grueling research, scrambling to acquire the right materials, complicated design issues that made you want to scream. Not to mention five months spent collaborating with the bane of your existence: Eren Jaeger. The award for first place barely makes up for a semester’s worth of torture; nonetheless, it’s still a pretty trophy.

It was fate that brought the four of you together back in January, the same fate that has spited you for whatever reason, forcing you to work alongside Eren, the most obnoxious, cocky, annoying person you have ever met in your short twenty-two years of living. While you had no issues with Connie or Sasha, you and Eren did not mesh. It’s been apparent since the beginning of the semester when you were chosen to be the team leader. He scoffed, claimed that he “would be a better choice, but whatever.” Your relationship with him was doomed from that day on.

What’s odd is that he isn’t an asshole to the entire group; his less than pleasant behavior seems to be reserved for you, and only you. He gets on perfectly fine with Sasha and Connie, who have basically played mediator for you two, keeping as much of the peace as possible whenever an argument ensues. He usually instigates it, always making an unnecessary comment to get under your skin. At this point, you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose just to get a rise out of you, because how can one human be this irritating?!

Despite all the petty drama, you have to admit that he’s smart. Not only that, but he also works hard and gets shit done, no matter how much grief he gives you about it. And, if you squint hard enough, he maybe is, almost, sort of…hot. Strictly speaking from an objective standpoint, that is. Based on media-driven beauty standards and common qualities that are considered conventionally attractive by society. Of course, you will never, ever admit this aloud, especially not to him. You’re convinced that if he ever finds out, his massive head will explode, already overinflated from his gigantic ego.

Your team crowds Pyxis, who happily hands you the trophy first. Eren, no surprise, snatches it from your clutches to hold it himself, kissing it and lifting it above him like he won a major league championship. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to maintain professionalism in front of the watching staff.

“Will your team leader give a few words about the project?” Pyxis asks, gaze on you, motioning to the stand.

You tense up, usually nervous about public speaking. Clearing your throat, you lean into the mic. “Uh, thank you Professor Pyxis and the rest of the faculty for selecting our project. This has been a labor of love for the past five months and we are honored to have it recognized. We hope that this prototype and any of the research associated with it will help improve labor conditions for those working in construction, risking their lives every day.”

You glance at Connie and Sasha to see if they’d like to add anything else. Connie adds, “Special shoutout to grad students Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Hange Zoe for helping us out a ton with our project, from offering advice to testing it out. We love you!”

“And thank you Paradise Pizzeria and Café Utopia for fueling many late nighters throughout this whole semester! You rock!” Sasha exclaims, resulting in laughter from the audience.

Eren grabs the mic from the stand, yelling, “This is dedicated to my fraternity brothers, for providing moral support during these trying times! Alpha Tau for life!” He holds the trophy in one hand, using the other to salute an inverted fist at his chest, sticking his tongue out.

This time, you don’t contain your eye roll as the crowd laughs even louder, clearly amused by it. He passes the microphone back to Pyxis. “Fantastic! I love the enthusiasm of this team. Let’s give them all another big round of applause!”

After the presentation is over, Pyxis instructs, “They’d like to take your picture next to the ODM gear. The photographers are taking some shots of the other projects, so feel free to take your time heading to the Rose Center.”

On the walk, Eren passes the trophy to Sasha. “What to hold it, Sash?”

“Sure! Still can’t believe we won!”

Connie puts his arm around her, staring at the prize. “I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but damn, is it nice to look at.”

Eren catches up to you, nudging you in the arm. “Would it have killed you to smile during your little speech?”

You shove your elbow into his ribs, a little harder than necessary. “I was smiling.”

“You call that a smile? You looked like you were in a hostage situation. Like, blink three times if they’re hurting you type of deal,” he teases, that cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“Like you were any better!” You stick your tongue out, mocking him. “Alpha Tau for life, bros!”

“I really meant it. I needed all the fucking help I could get, dealing with you this whole semester. If it weren’t for them, I would have gone fucking crazy because of you.”

“Oh right, because I’m the one driving you crazy, sure,” you respond, sarcastically.

“Hey, at least you’re admitting it! You’re finally making progress!” He claps in front of your face.

You shove him, glaring. “You are such a jerk.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, baby.”

“Oh, I am not your baby.”

Sasha jumps in between, yelling, “Enough! Both of you, stop it!!”

Connie joins in. “Yeah, we won today. Stop ruining the mood.”

Without you realizing it, the four of you have made it to the Rose Center, which is luckily vacant in the midst of your little spat with Eren. This is how your arguments usually go, all because of something petty that never leads anywhere. When the photographer arrives, they direct you to stand beside your project, already displayed in one of the glass windows. They take a couple of shots, then it’s over. Just like that, your senior project is officially done. There’s a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. All that’s left to do is to graduate.

The sun is setting by the time the photoshoot is finished. The four of you exit the building, Sasha immediately announcing, “I’m hungry! Let’s get dinner one last time as a team!”

“I’m down for that. Any ideas where to go?”

“Paradise Pizza?”

“No, we’ve had that way too many times this year. Let’s go somewhere special tonight.”

“There’s that all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue place downtown,” you suggest. “It’s only fifteen minutes away if we take the train.”

“Ooohh, I like the sound of that!”

“I’m down. Eren?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets. That too-cool-to-care attitude apparent in his body language. “If that’s what everyone else wants, then I guess it’s fine.” If it had been either Sasha or Connie to suggest it, you know for a fact that he would have a more positive response. Because it’s you, he has to act like he’s being forced into it, reluctant to concede with absolutely everything you propose.

You go your separate ways to change out of professional attire and into more comfortable clothes, agreeing to meet outside Eren’s in an hour. His apartment is closest to the train station, making it the most convenient. By 7:00PM, you’re inside the restaurant, seated at a table, grill fired up as you browse through the menu. Sasha, the ultimate foodie of the group, orders the first round of meats. You pick the drinks.

“Two bottles of strawberry soju, please!” you tell the waiter.

“Oh, I love soju!” Sasha squeals.

You smile at her. “Me too. This flavor’s my favorite.”

Eren, who is somehow seated next to you, grunts. “Strawberry? Of course you’d pick some girly shit like that.”

“Hey man, don’t knock it till you try it,” Connie says. “This shit gets you fucked up fast. Trust me. I’ve gotten soju drunk before, and it’s awesome.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, that’s because of all the extra fucking sugar, I bet. Sounds gross.”

The waiter arrives with the alcohol and four glasses, along with waters to share. You do the honors and pour everyone, except Eren, a shot. “I’m guessing you don’t want any of this gross soju, then?”

He snatches the shot glass, thrusting it towards you. “I didn’t say that. Just pour me some.”

With glasses filled to the brim, you all cheers, then throw it back. The familiar flavor is refreshing and sweet on your tongue, smooth down your throat.

“Shit, that’s good!” Connie raves.

“Strawberry might be my new favorite flavor! It’s so yummy!”

You face Eren, grinning. “Well?”

He shrugs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s alright.”

“Don’t lie to me. You like it, don’t you?” you tease, nudging him in the arm.

“I said it’s fine, okay?”

You stop pestering him, satisfied knowing that maybe you were finally right about something when it comes to him.

Soon, a plethora of tasty side dishes are scattered on the table. Rice, kimchi, fresh lettuce, potato salad, two helpings of steamed eggs to share. Three heaping plates of meat follow. Sasha begins barbequing, laying out portions of beef bulgogi on the hot grill as the rest of you watch hungrily, the steam and aroma surrounding you like a cozy embrace. Once it’s cooked, you help yourselves, stuffing your faces with perfectly grilled meat and whatever else you desire. Several bites in, you all decide to do another round of shots, first bottle almost finished.

“Good idea to do KBBQ tonight!” Sasha mentions. “I haven’t had it in a while. I forgot how much I love it.”

Connie chimes in, “Same! Which side dish is everyone’s favorite?”

Sasha immediately points to the potato salad. “Is there any doubt that mine would be this?”

“Of course we all know that potato girl. I like kimchi. What’s yours?”

You pick out your favorite. “This one, for sure.”

Eren makes an unapproving noise. “Of course you’d pick that. So basic.”

To keep the peace, especially on this night of celebration, you ignore the temptation to reply with an equally sassy comment. Instead, you ask, “Well, what’s your favorite, Eren?”

“The steamed egg. It’s delicious and packs an extra serving of protein.” He flexes his bicep with a smug expression. “Not that I really need it.”

Connie and Sasha laugh, while you take a deep breath, using every ounce of willpower to keep your cool. You crack open the bottle, downing the remaining alcohol to help you get through the rest of the night.

“What’s everyone’s plans after graduation?” Connie asks.

Sasha answers first. “I’ll be working with my dad for our family business.”

“I’m sure Artur will appreciate all the new, high-tech engineering skills you have! If I’m still unemployed in two months, can you please hire me?”

“Of course!”

“What about you, Eren?”

“I got an offer in Marley,” he reveals. “It’s a pretty good gig, but I don’t know about moving overseas. I got another in Stohess to work for their weapons warehouse, so maybe I’ll accept that instead.”

“I’ve never been overseas,” you comment. “Sounds interesting if you do decide to go.”

“Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t sound interesting at all.”

Even your attempt at being polite is met with malice. “You always argue with me for the sake of arguing.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. “No I don’t!”

“You’re literally doing it right now! I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well, try harder,” he grumbles, picking meat off the grill.

“My god, you two are exhausting!” Sasha intervenes.

Connie nods. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of fighting all the time?”

“Honestly, you two should do it and get it over with.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eren leers at Sasha through the smoke.

“I’m saying get all your anger out by fucking each other. Hate sex is the best medicine for situations like this,” she explains, matter of fact.

“No fucking way,” Eren says. “It’s not like that.”

“Definitely not,” you reiterate, cheeks warm. You pour yourself another shot, already on the second bottle, not offering a serving to anyone else. Desperate for liquor with the direction this conversation is going.

“Wow, you two actually agree on something for once!” Connie teases. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

The duo giggle together, finding enjoyment from your current state of misery. Eren clears his throat, muttering something unintelligible. He reaches for the soju in front of you, avoiding your gaze as he tips it into his empty shot glass, instantly downing it. Before the silence gets awkward, you change the subject, mentioning some idle gossip you heard around the engineering department, to which Connie and Sasha have plenty to contribute to.

An hour later, the four of you manage to finish most of the food, only a few pieces of charred meat left over. Sasha and Connie rub their stomachs, satisfied by the feast. You and Eren end up finishing the last bottle between the two of you. Since the comment from earlier, neither of you have spoken directly, avoiding each other.

Connie slumps into the chair, patting his belly. “Let’s play a game while we digest! Truth or eat. If you don’t answer, you have to eat these burnt pieces of bulgogi.”

Eren laughs. “That sounds fun. I’m down.” He looks to you, brow raised, challenging. “You in, princess?”

You bite your cheek, holding in the clever retort at his annoying nickname for you, also relieved he’s back to normal. “Sure, why not?”

“I’ll go first,” Sasha volunteers, sitting up in her seat. “Eren, who’s the freakiest brother in Alpha Tau?”

Without hesitating, he states, “Armin, for sure.”

“Armin?! Really?”

“Yup. He’s one kinky motherfucker,” he grins. He turns to face you. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“You want the whole essay, or an abridged version?” you reply, smirking as you sip on your water.

Sasha giggles while Connie mutters under his breath, “Oh boy.”

Eren doesn’t let up. “Give me one reason.”

Contemplating which of the many grievances you should expose about him, you finally decide on one. “You always disagree with me, no matter what. Whether it’s something about the project, or something as simple as a side dish preference.”

“We already know that, though. What else?”

“Hey, you wanted one reason, and I gave it to you.” You think for a few seconds, adding, “And to be fair, hate is a strong word. I don’t hate you.”

It’s true. While he annoys you beyond your wit’s end, you don’t hate him. He’s a quarter of the reason you all achieved what you did. You focus back on the table, avoiding Eren’s expression. “Connie, have you two ever hooked up?” you question, pointing at the duo.

“Gross! No!”

“Absolutely not. We’re practically twins. That’d be illegal.”

“Yup. We’re basically two halves of a whole idiot.”

You laugh with them, taking another sip of water as Connie poses a question to Eren. “Why do you give her such a hard time?” he asks, referring to you.

“Here we go,” you mumble, ready for an onslaught of ridiculous reasons.

It’s silent for a few moments, then he takes his chopsticks, grabbing at the charred meat on the grill, placing it into his mouth to eat quietly.

“What?!” Sasha yells. “You’re not going to tell us?”

Connie smirks. “Must be pretty bad, then.”

You watch him slowly chew the burnt food, a small smile on his face. As if there’s a secret he’s keeping from everybody else at the table. Why would he refuse to answer the question that he basically asked you? Is his hatred for you that intense that he chooses not to say it, to save you from humiliation? What could you have possibly done to him to warrant this kind of treatment? Maybe it’s the liquor leading you to jump to conclusions, to be slightly offended by his choice. Maybe even a little hurt.

When he’s done, he chugs his whole water. “Alright, my turn again.”

“Wait, really?”

“We’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Yup,” he responds, nonchalant.

“Why?”

“Hey, I ate that shit, right? Let it go,” he states, more aggressively this time.

You remain silent, mind racing with all types of ideas. You pay no more attention to the game, contemplating all the possible reasons Eren Jaeger would hate you so much. To be fair, he’s the one who starts it first. All you do is defend yourself. Why would he have any bigger reason to dislike you more than you dislike him?

Connie yells out your name, breaking you out of your reverie. “Hey, are you in?”

“Huh?”

“Karaoke! There’s a bar down the street.”

After paying the check, split evenly, the four of you head to the karaoke bar, booking a private room for an hour. You all sing your hearts out while sobering up from whatever buzz you developed from the soju. Any strange concerns you had about Eren evaporate. The two of you even seem to get along, performing a few duets together.

On the train ride back near campus, the four of you share more laughs, enjoying possibly the last time you’ll be together. With everyone graduating and off to their own paths, it’s hard to tell when, or if, you’ll ever see each other again.

From the station, you start you trek home, pausing outside Eren’s apartment to chat a bit more, until Sasha says, “I guess this is goodbye!”

“Yeah, thanks for all your hard work. This was really fun,” Connie adds, smiling.

“We should all try to keep in touch.”

Eren hugs Connie, then Sasha. The two of you look at each other, contemplating if you should embrace also. Suddenly, you blurt out, “Actually, can I use your bathroom? I have to pee.”

You really do have to pee, but surely, you could have made it the extra ten minutes to your own apartment to do so, right? For some reason, your mind convinces you to stay with him just a little longer. There’s a pending task you have to complete before you part ways for good. You hope for closure, to end things on a good note.

You, Connie, and Sasha exchange hugs, leaving with a final wave, disappearing into the distance. Despite the pleasant warmth of the summer night, there’s a noticeable chill in the air. Not from the weather, rather, from the growing tension surrounding you and Eren. His voice is quiet when he says, “Alright, I guess we can head in now.”

You nod, following him through the entrance. At the elevator, he swipes a keycard, pushing the button to go up to the third floor. The doors open and you step in, still not speaking a word. Arriving at his door, he unlocks it, holding it for you.

“Bathroom is down to the right,” he points, removing his shoes at the entrance.

You copy him, sliding out of your sneakers. “Okay cool. Thank you.”

Once you find the bathroom, you swiftly close the door, fully aware that you are inside Eren Jaeger’s apartment. Naturally, curiosity gets the best of you. With a quick glance around the room, you can tell he’s tidy. Towels hung properly, actual floor mats on the tiles, toilet seat down. Is he anticipating a visit from a friend? Maybe a lover? You can’t help letting your imagination run wild.

Finished with your business, you walk out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the couch, television playing a show you’re familiar with. “Have you seen this episode yet? The new season just started,” you mention, stepping towards him.

He stands up, turning to face you. “I haven’t. Was planning to watch it tonight.”

“Cool,” is all you manage to utter.

There’s another moment of awkward silence until he asks, “You want to watch it with me?”

Without thinking, you agree.

The two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching in silence. About halfway through, with a soft chuckle, he admits, “That strawberry soju wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good.”

This catches you off guard. You look at him, grinning. “Wow. It took you this long to finally come clean about it.”

“Better late than never, right?” He keeps his eyes forward, smirking.

You adjust, completely facing him. “Since you’re being honest about that, can you tell me why you didn’t answer Connie’s question?”

He plays dumb. “What question?”

“Why do you give me such a hard time?”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Yeah, I am,” you confess. “Seems a little odd to me that wouldn’t just say it.”

Finally, he matches you, repositioning himself to set his gaze on yours. “Why do you care so much?”

“I’m curious. Since we’ll be graduating soon, we’ll probably never see each other again. I figured we should put everything out there. Get some closure. Make amends.”

He scoffs. “I wasn’t aware there were any amends to make.”

You’re getting annoyed now, impatient with his round-about comments. “Seriously? You think our relationship is normal?”

“I don’t think we have a relationship at all.”

You stand up, regretting being here in the first place. He’s the same asshole he’s always been. What we’re you expecting? Why would he be any different tonight?

“Fine. Forget it. What a waste of time. Good job on the project, and I hope you have a great life.” You stomp towards the exit, not bothering to look at him.

Suddenly, his hand shoots out, gripping you loosely around the wrist. “Wait. Don’t go.”

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in frustration, skin tingly from the physical contact. Waiting for him to elaborate.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he stammers. “I’m not…I can’t really…” he trails off, not finishing his sentences.

When he doesn’t proceed, you ask, “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you treat me this way? Why me?”

He swallows hard, the truth difficult for him to spit out. “It’s dumb.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me.”

He lets out a sigh, averting his gaze to the floor. “It’s because I like you, okay?”

It takes a moment for you to process what he’s saying. Eventually, you stammer, “You like me?”

“Yeah, I like you,” he reiterates, still staring at his own feet. “You’re cute. You’re the smartest person I know. And you’re also a fucking pain in my ass. But I like you.”

That last part would normally have you on the verge of swinging; however, it’s almost endearing the way he says it. Your sudden change in heart has you questioning if you’re drunk from the liquor you consumed hours ago. “Why would you treat me like this if you like me?”

Another deep sigh as he explains, “I don’t know. Because I’m a fucking idiot and I’m immature. I told you, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. I just…I didn’t expect this.”

More silence falls between you two. You look down at his big hand still holding you, racing heartbeat reverberating through your chest. You’re not sure how to react. So, you go with your instinct.

You kiss him.

~~~

Eren doesn’t know why he started it months ago at the beginning of the semester. If he’s being completely honest, he’s got the body of Greek god, the intelligence of a genius, and the maturity, or in this case, immaturity, of a fifth grader. That being said, whatever it is that he has going with her, he’s decided to classify it as a schoolboy crush. Like a kid on the playground picking on another kid, doing everything they can to garner all their attention, no matter how annoying it is.

It began with snide remarks here and there, nothing ever too cruel to be considered bullying, but enough to make her bite back. He’s not sure why he kept it up so long, especially after realizing he actually likes her. In his mind, negative attention is better than no attention at all. He can’t be normal around her; being a nuisance is what he’s comfortable with.

Another reason is that he’s intimidated by her. She could see right through his cocky demeanor. Break him down into the vulnerable little shit he really is. The grief he caused her is some bizarre defense mechanism, a way to deny his true feelings for her. All to protect himself and his heart.

He was supposed to go to a frat party tonight after hanging out with the team. Instead, he finds himself alone with her in his apartment, everything revealed, his confession hanging heavy in the air.

Even more unexpected is her leaning forward to kiss him, lips soft and gentle against his. Hesitant and uncertain. Sweet and tangy from the lingering essence of the strawberry soju from earlier. Before he gets carried away, he pulls off, whispering, “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” she admits. “But I can’t deny that I’m curious.”

“We shouldn’t do this then. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just…shut up and let me check something.”

He obeys, closing his eyes, waiting for her move. She kisses him again, more confidentially this time, hand sliding to his nape to pull him closer.

“Fuck, are you sure this is okay?” he breathes out, slowly losing his composure.

She nods, smiling. “Yes.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely certain?”

“If you ask me one more time, you’re really going to piss me off,” she warns, grazing her mouth along his neck, sucking at the skin of his throat.

He nods erratically. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Fuck.”

She pushes him back towards the couch, falling into the cushions. He watches in awe as she strips her sweatpants, revealing pink lacey panties. She sits in his lap, legs spread wide with him between, clothed pussy against his pulsating cock. His hands are to his sides, clenched to the cushion of the couch. With her lips brushing his ear, she whispers, “You can touch me if you want.”

His cock twitches, erection growing by the second as she straddles him. Carefully, he slides his palms around her waist, moaning a trembling, “Thank you.” Hands at her bottom, he squeezes her ass cheeks in a firm grasp, fingers slipping underneath the fabric, dangerously close to her arousal.

Without thinking, he blurts out, “Use me. Do what you want with me. You’re the leader.”

There’s a wicked smile on her face as soon as he says it. “Eren Jaeger is going to let me use him?”

All pride is thrown out the window. He doesn’t care anymore about giving into weakness. With graduation only two weeks away, and no promise of ever seeing each other again, he decides fuck it. He’s going to do whatever he can to fulfill this fantasy of his. And if that means submitting to her, begging and groveling at her feet, he’ll fucking do it.

“Yeah,” he growls. “Use me as your fuck toy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just fucking use me.”

“Didn’t think Alpha Tau’s frat star would behave like this,” she murmurs, sucking on his ear lobe.

“Does it turn you on?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Fucking wreck me apart then. Don’t hold back,” he demands. There’s already precum leaking from his tip, soaking through the cotton of his briefs. “Consider it payback for this semester.”

She responds by grinding her hips on his lap. He’s desperate to feel her without fabric separating them, but he knows what he agreed to. He can’t do anything without her permission, without her initiating. She rides him for another minute, his palms on her ass, following her motions. His cock throbs beneath her, aching for release from the confines of his pants. There’s an audible whine developing in his throat, needy for anything.

On cue, she swings her leg over to kneel beside him, tugging at the waistband of his sweats and underwear. He lifts his hips as she slides them off simultaneously, freeing his stiff cock. He watches her marvel at his erection, noticing desire in her eyes. Before he knows it, she’s bent towards his lap, mouth hovering his dick, licking at the slit.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Goddamn.”

She continues to tease him, leaving the shaft untouched, tongue swirling the tip, lapping at his precum.

“Fuck, please. Touch me,” he begs, legs quivering from arousal.

Without warning, she wraps her fist around him, surrounding the tip with her mouth, bobbing up and down in sync with her strokes. She starts slow, increasing the pace with each guttural moan that emits within his chest. The temptation to buck his hips into her warm, wet heat is tantalizing, but he reminds himself that she’s in control, which only turns him on more.

She uses her other hand to fondle his balls, causing him to swear loudly. “Fuck!”

He feels the vibration of her giggle through his cock, clearly enjoying the way she’s unravelling him, his orgasm approaching fast. “Can I please come?”

She shakes her head, still working his dick.

“Fuck. I can’t…I can’t hold it.”

She releases him from her mouth, stroking him, face close to his. “You think you deserve to come now?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Apologize first.”

“Huh?”

“Apologize. Admit that you’re a fucking asshole.” She nibbles on his ear lobe, dragging it down between her lips, still jerking him off.

“I’m sorry. I’m a,” he chokes on his spit before he can finish. “Fucking asshole.”

“Tell me your desperate for it. That you need it.”

“Fuck, I’m so fucking desperate, I fucking need it. Please.”

“Good,” she whispers, pumping him faster. She kisses him on the lips, grip tight around him as his cock swells, hanging by a thread at the edge of his climax. “Go ahead. Come for me, Eren.”

At the sound of his name on her sultry lips, he does, hot cum shooting straight onto his t-shirt. “Fuck!” he yells, eyes shut tight, riding out one of the best orgasms of his life. She strokes him until his balls are completely drained. Finally, he opens his eyes to inspect the scene, shocked by the mess painted across the bottom of his shirt, spilling onto his abdomen.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, smiling at her.

She grins back at him. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all. Really fucking good, actually.” He kisses her, fingers drifting down to her arousal, rubbing the fabric against her clit. “Come here. Let me eat this pretty pussy out. Please. I want it so bad.”

“Since you said it so nicely, I guess I can let you have a taste.”

~~~

You stand up, leaving room for him to lay down on the couch. He doesn’t need to be told. He expects you to ride that pretty face of his. When he’s flat on his back, shirt stripped off and completely naked, he turns to watch you slip out of your panties.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he praises, reaching down to rub his balls. “I think about this a lot, you know.”

You toss your underwear to the floor, watching him play with himself, removing your remaining clothes. “What do you think about?”

“This. You, naked in my apartment. Riding my face till you come. Fucking your wet pussy right after.”

“I guess tonight’s your lucky night,” you tease, lifting your knee across him, straddling his face.

“Yes, it is,” he replies, licking his lips, eyes wide with lust at your pussy above him, already wet with arousal. He cranes his neck upwards, tongue out, desperate for a taste.

“Not yet.” You lift up enough so he’s out of reach. “Watch me play with myself first.”

“Fuck,” he swears, salivating.

You wet your middle finger with your slick, rubbing circles around your clit. He watches in a daze, biting his lower lip, brows knit together in concentration, focused on you pleasuring yourself right above him. He squirms beneath you, thrusting his hips into the air, in an effort to feel anything. “Get it fucking juicy for me, baby. I want to fucking drown in it.”

The little nicknames you’ve grown accustomed to hating has a very different ring to it now. For the first time all semester, you don’t mind it. You actually like it. With your free hand, you run your fingers through his hair, redirecting his gaze on yours. “That’s right. I’m your baby. And what are you?”

He swallows hard. “I…I don’t know.”

“You’re my fuck toy.”

“Fuck yeah. I’m your fuck toy, baby. I’m your fuck toy. Use me, please.”

With your grip firm on his hair, you sink lower, your pussy pressed to his open mouth. He licks your clit, swiping his wide tongue over it, moving side to side. You moan at the glorious sensation, rocking your hips across his face to feel more. He latches onto your swollen bud, humming in pleasure as he suckles on it. His hips rut into nothing again, arms at his sides, clutching hard at the cushions, letting you be in total control. This power he gives you turns you on more than you imagined. Maybe because all semester, he always acted as if he had the upper hand. Knowing how desperate he is to be beneath you, to please you beyond any other desire he has, it only spurs you on.

You grind yourself on his face, the squelching noises indicating how sloppy he’s eating you out and how wet you’re becoming because of it. He’s relentless, alternating between licking, slurping, and sucking at your clit. You blissfully indulge in it until you climax on his tongue, bud over-stimulated, pussy soaked with his spit and your slick.

“Fuck,” he muffles, slurping the cum from your sleek entrance. Legs wobbly from your orgasm, you lift off him, shifting to reposition yourself comfortably on top. His cock is hard beneath you, sticky with his cum from earlier. Through shiny lips, he whines, “I’m so fucking hard again. Fuck me. Fuck me with that wet pussy.”

Reaching behind you, you align him with your slit, sinking down on his shaft. He lets out a gasp, “I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck.” Concerned, you attempt to lift off, but he shakes his head fervently. “Don’t. Please baby. Fuck me till I come. I need it. I need it.”

You ride him, bouncing your ass on his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside you. He moans loudly, babbling filthy words from his needy mouth.

Use this cock, baby. Fuck me like a toy.

Make yourself come on this dick.

It’s all fucking yours. Take it, baby. Take it.

I’m all yours. I’m all yours.

You moan with him, another climax approaching. Grabbing his wrist, you guide him to your clit. He caresses your puffy bud with his fingers. “I’m going to come,” you whimper.

“Can I come with you, princess? Please, can I come inside you?”

You nod wordlessly, pumping him in and out of you faster as he rubs your clit relentlessly, determined to make you orgasm. When you cry out in ecstasy, he joins you. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming, baby.”

For the second time tonight, both of you come, this time together. He spills inside you, filling your cunt with his warm, creamy load as you coat his dick with yours. Your body is spent from the euphoria, throat dry from whining in pleasure, and your curiosity satiated. It’s a lie to say you’ve never imagined being fucked silly by Eren. No matter how much he annoyed you, irritated you, aggravated you, there were moments this semester when you thought about it. How good it would feel to ride him, fuck him dumb until he’s begging for release.

“I’m exhausted,” he giggles, limp on the couch, softening cock still inside you, wrapping you in a snug embrace.

“Me too.” You settle into his arms, relaxed and comfortable against his chest.

“Thank you,” he mutters, caressing your back tenderly. “Thank you.” He doesn’t elaborate, repeating it a few more times as he nuzzles his nose into the top of your head.

You cuddle together in a comfortable silence. “Sleep here tonight. I have an extra toothbrush and you can wear my clothes.”

Accepting his offer, the two of you start tidying, picking up strewn wardrobe from the floor, wiping away the sticky aftermath of sex. You hop in the shower, rinsing your bodies clean, exchanging passionate kisses while the water splashes you. After you dry off and brush your teeth, you change into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers he lends you, jumping into the bed beside him. He smiles at you. “You look good in my clothes.”

You give him a smooch, getting yourself cozy under the covers. He spoons you, arm sliding over your waist, interlacing his fingers with yours. His breath is pleasantly warm on your neck. “I know we’re probably past this already, but I want to formally apologize. It wasn’t right the way I treated you, and I’m sorry. Genuinely.”

“Apology accepted,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry too. For saying anything that hurt you out of anger.”

“You don’t have to be. I deserved it.”

“Still, I’m sorry. And no one deserves that.”

“All is forgiven then.” He chuckles softly. “For two smart people, we sure are dumb.”

You laugh with him. “If only we were a tad bit smarter, we could have started this months ago.”

“Yeah," he says, nestling his face against your neck. "You’re right.”

Nothing else is said as the two of you drift into sleep. It’s nice, having closure on a previously volatile relationship. However, something else lingers after tonight. Another door opens, leading to the unknown. He confessed his true feelings for you. You didn’t have time to process it, too focused on settling your truce through sex. While there’s no doubt that you find him physically attractive, can you really move on from the past and give him a chance?

~~~

The words are on the tip of his tongue, and he decides to keep it that way, not wanting to disrupt this moment of peace. Not wanting to complicate it any further. He knows that this is the beginning and the end of whatever this fling is. She hasn’t reciprocated his feelings and he won’t pressure her to, not tonight. Maybe not ever. No matter how badly he wishes to see her again, keep in touch, make it official, he won’t ask that of her. At the end of the day, it’s his own fault for waiting too long, for being too late. Time has run out, and now he’s paying the price.

They stay in each other’s arms, Eren listening closely to the sound of her steady breathing. Cherishing how her fingers fit seamlessly in his, the small smile on her lips as she drifts into a tranquil slumber, the warmth and weight of her body against his.

The next morning, he wakes up, alone. If not for the stack of clothes he let her borrow folded neatly at the end of the bed, he would have thought last night’s events were all a dream. He vaguely recalls her waking up beside him, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead, sneaking out on her tippy toes at the crack of dawn. Still, he searches the apartment, calling out her name to no response.

Throughout the week, he’s constantly on the verge of texting her. He never goes through with it, though, scared to be rejected. Afraid of having the final memory of her be one of heartbreak.

As a last-ditch effort, he devises a plan. Eren hosts a party at his place to celebrate the upcoming graduation. He invites the Alpha Tau brothers, plus some sorority girls for good measure. However, his main objective is to invite her. He ends up sending a group text to his senior project team, casually informing them of his little gathering. Sasha and Connie both reply, announcing their attendance, but she doesn’t.

At the party, he tries not to think about her, distracting himself by socializing with the crowds of people already filling his apartment. When Connie and Sasha arrive together, he decides to try one more time before he consumes his sorrows away. After exchanging polite greetings with them, he asks, “Have you guys heard anything from her?”

“Nope. I don’t think she even texted back, right?”

Eren’s ready to reach for the closest container of booze he can find. The duo walks past him to enjoy the party while he remains standing, watching the door for another minute. Just as he’s about to turn his heel, he sees it open slowly.

She walks in, her favorite drink in hand, a happy expression on her face as soon as she spots him. In the background, someone yells out, “Eren! Tequila shots?”

Waving the familiar bottle at him, she smiles.

“Nah,” Eren responds, gazing at her with a grin. “I’m sticking with strawberry soju from now on.”

--------------------

Taglist: @liliorsstuff-blog @batafuraikisu @bloompompom @belovedackerman @wtfiswrongwithme1

#eren jaeger #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x fem!reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager #aot smut #strawberry soju

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starlightparadises · 1 year ago

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Alone with you - dbf!miguel x fem!reader (18+)

summary. - miguel promised your parents to keep an eye on you while they go on their anniversary trip paring. - miguel o'hara x reader word count. - 511 cw. - nsfw, implied age gap, breeding kink, praise kink, spanking (just one time), not proofread or translated properly (im tired LOL)

a/n - i was half asleep while writing this, regardless I hope you all enjoy my first fanfic :3c (feel free to give me suggestions on what i could work on)

It’s been hours and all you could feel is the pulsing feeling of your cunt and the large hands that had a vice grip on your thighs. Your family left hours ago and your dad’s best friend promised to keep a good eye on you while your parents went on their anniversary trip. They felt guilty leaving their baby at home by themself so they asked Miguel to keep you company for a few days despite you being a grown adult. You’re not complaining though, because you were currently folded underneath the 6’9 hunky man.

“What if my parents find out Miggy?”

Miguel tilted his head with a smirk and leaned down by your ear

“Then we have to come clean nena, that’s no issue for you right?”

His cock slowly prodded at your sensitive hole, teasing you and making you squirm

“I’m sure your parents trust me enough to give their blessing. So I can make this tight pussy mine”

A smack lands on you, causing you to yelp and jolt

“P-Please….’ts too much” You sobbed out quietly, pawing at his hand that was currently rubbing languid circles on your bud

“Too much? You were doing so well for me a few minutes ago sweetheart, what happened?” His head rests between the nape of your neck and nips at your skin

“You can give me one more right? Damelo por favor mi cielo” He moans out quietly, making quick work of his hand and proceeding to piston his hips into yours

“Necesito mas, you’re doing so well for me” The sound of skin slapping and the wetness in between your legs was making feel like putty, causing your legs to quiver and your face to contort into bliss.

“Miguel! I…I’m so close!” You all but yelled out, intertwining your hands with his freehand

“Come for me mami, wanna feel you round and plump with my seed” His teeth puncture the skin on your neck as his tongue laps up the blood and bruise slowly appearing

You squeezed around him and released on his length, whining and moaning from the overstimulation of his hand and cock. He came shortly after you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and repositioning his hands onto your waist

“Buena chica. You did so well.” His lips placed kisses almost sloppily onto your face and his thumbs massaged your waist, undoing the knots and cramps that appeared uninvitedly

He keeps his softened member inside for a few minutes longer to make sure that his seed ‘was being put to good use’ and slowly removed it to wipe the mess up with a damp cloth

“You’re such a good girl, always so good for me. I’ll be sure to take good care of you”

He places a soft kiss on your forehead and wraps you up in a blanket, spooning your and making you feel safe.

Your parents can take as long as they want on their trip if it meant you get to have a few more moments like this with your dad’s best friend.

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #peachiefaerie #dbf!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x reader #black reader #miguel x black reader

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sunshine-theseus · 11 months ago

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Bia | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

Words: 2.8k Summary: you create your own boots and meet the most beautiful girl - sorry I also used this to info dump about the necessity for boots designed specifically for women to lower injury risks Warnings: none i think. lemme know if there are any requested by - @hottiedogs375 i hope you enjoy, it's probably not my best :( definitely not as good as pequeña i think

My family was more of a cricket family than a football one. I wasn’t really fond of either, the shouting was always too much, and the food was somehow sloppy yet rock hard at the same time. Even when we watched at home. The living room would be full of sweaty angry men, sometimes my mum and sister would join if our team was actually doing well. Meanwhile you’d find me in my room at the very back corner of the attic, my room, with headphones on to block out the noise, usually designing something.

Despite the cricket background, I found myself intrigued by the design of women’s football kits. In my design and technology class in year 13, I fell down a research rabbit hole on football boots for women. It was then I discovered the lack of adaptation for the shoe. Women often just wear smaller sizes of boots designed for men, which has been one of the factors in the increase in injuries in the women’s game and I’d decided I wanted to fix that.

That’s how I found myself in front of a crowd, made up of possible brand ambassadors and sponsors, as well as a range of women’s athletes from across the world, pitching my idea.

“And that’s why brands like Bia are important to the growth of women’s football. The shape of the boot, the length of studs, the sole support, they’re all contributing factors to how players perform. When women footballers use the men’s boots, which is basically the only option, they aren’t going to grow used to the details designed for male anatomy. It’s causing stress on not only their feet but every ligament, every bone, every piece of them is suffering because they have to try and adapt to things they can’t possibly adapt to.” I felt like the closing of my speech was rather strong, especially as I watched players and possible sponsors stand to clap. The noise echoes throughout the auditorium and a happiness bubbles within me.

“Thank you for providing me this opportunity. Please, if anyone has any questions.” I gesture to the stand-up microphone in the middle aisle, and people rush to line up.

“What made you intent on creating a boot specifically for women, risking money and time on something people have tried to do before? Something you knew wasn’t guaranteed to work?”

“I know it’s funny, but my family was not a football one, so I didn’t grow up knowing much about the game. But in my a-levels design and technology class, we had to research an issue prevalent in an existing design, and I for some reason was just drawn to the idea that women don’t even get the choice of having a boot made for them. I found it unfair and uncaring. Everyone expects women to play at the same level as men yet won’t provide them with the necessary equipment to do so without them having to risk, quite possibly their career. And I couldn’t just move on after the class, I knew that I had to do something about it. So I’ve spent the past 3 years perfecting the design and building the brand, to be here in front of you all today.” Another round of applause is heard throughout the room before the next person steps up.

She’s a footballer, that I know. Young, no older than 21, my age. And very very pretty.

“This question probably isn’t quite as important as that one but, what made you pick the name Bia? It just seems like an interesting name.” people chuckle at the question, and the (newly discovered) Australian shyly looks around.

“No, I love this question. Bia is the Greek goddess of force and raw energy. She’s actually Nike’s sister, the goddess of victory and very obviously the brand. I think Bia resembles a lot of things within female athletes. They have this driving force and unbelieve power that they bring, and it just felt so right.”

“That’s sick. Can I also quickly ask, sorry, are these boots made for every female athlete? Like can someone in track and field use these or are they just for footballers?” the girl smiles brightly after her question, and I have to remember not to lose focus.

“While the primary focus is obviously footballers, I have researched the compatibility of boots between sports and yes, a professional sprinter like Sharika Jackson can use them just as well as you or Alexia Putellas could. And of course as the brand grows we’ll be able to develop even further and broaden our research further in creating boots fit for anyone.”

Questions carry on for a while, then I disappear behind the curtain that’s suspended behind me, rushing to remove my microphone. Eventually I slide out the side door and reach the separate room booked for ‘mingling’ after the panel.

Between talking to rich people desperate to make it seem like they care about others, and athletes who are very eager to know everything they can about the shoe, I try to keep an eye out for the nameless Australian. Every time I think I’ve spotted her; it seems she disappears. Bodies keep moving and she seems to be one of them.

Then I bump into someone. We both go stumbling but she catches me just before I head for the floor.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” And there she was, the girl I’d been looking for.

“No, no need to apologise. I’m Y/n.” I give her a hand to shake.

“Kyra.” There’s a pause before she continues.

“I’m a big fan of your boot. It’s truly incredible.” It’s hard not to blush and sputter out random sounds at her praise.

“Thank you. I’m really hoping this function works out.”

“Well I was thinking, when it does, if you need ‘a face of Bia’…”

“Oh my god yes that would be amazing. Seriously you have no idea how cool that would be.”

We talk for quite some time, and she sticks by my side when someone else comes to talk and ask question. When it’s time to go home we exchange numbers and that’s the first and last time I see her for a while.

5 months later is the next time I see Kyra in person. We’d both been travelling a lot, me for sponsors, ambassadors, and athletes, her for work. I’d expected to meet with her a few more times before we kick started the ‘face of Bia’ photoshoots, but as the fates had it, we found ourselves in a large warehouse, photo equipment, and many boxes of my shoes filling the space.

It suddenly all started to feel very real, and that made me nervous. So I packed myself into a small room in the corner as I tried to calm down, hoping the isolation and quiet would help me feel better.

Not even 2 minutes in, someone is following and taking a seat next to me.

“You right?” the voice is familiar and smooth.

“Yeah, yeah of course I am. It’s not like the biggest thing I’ve ever worked for in my life is basically in its final stage of release in the next room and I’m freaking out about it. What if they aren’t actually good? What if th-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. You sent me a pair 2 months ago, and I told you I would test them before saying anything, and I did just that. I took them to training. Ran on the pitch, walked, kicked the ball, passed, made risky moves. And what did I tell you after that?”

“‘These are the best fucking shoes ever.’ But what if they aren’t?”

“Listen Y/n, how many other athletes, not just me or footballers, did you send a pair to for testing?”

“Like 43. Basically every one that came to the panel plus some more.”

“How many told you they were good?”

“43.”

“Exactly. So we’re going to go out there together, you’re gonna tell the photographer what you want to see, every opinion, every change, anything, and we’re going to finalise your fucking dream.” Kyra picks me up without me even agreeing, and basically carries me out to the set up.

Ali Kreiger, despite her recent retirement, was currently being photographed. She’d been the one to reach out to me when she heard from, someone, and wanted to be an ambassador. I probably screamed so loud my neighbours thought I was getting murdered that day.

“They’re going to want a couple photos of you too probably. Either with the shoes or with one or all of us. Okay?” Kyra rubs a hand up and down my back as I take it all in.

I nod vigorously and try to shake my hands to get rid of the remaining nerves, eventually taking a seat next to the photographer, Eve. She asks for my input on every shot and manages to carry out my vision without fail every single time. As players filter in and out, I begin to truly relax and allow myself to take in the moment.

Zimmorlei Farquharson and Poppy Boltz, two AFLW players for the Brisbane Lions, were being photographed together when Kyra slid into the spare chair next to me. She didn’t say anything but when I looked over, I had to quickly look away again. Her outfit wasn’t something out of the ordinary, a loose cropped top and bike shorts, plus the sage green boots she was promoting. But the strip of skin that was exposed between her shirt and shorts was enticing and it was hard not to stare at the way her muscles contracted every time she moved in the seat.

I’m certain she caught me staring.

As she stands to take over the Australian Football players, Kyra leans over and whispers in my ear. It takes me a moment to process her words and by then she’s already under the lights.

“Good thing we’re taking some pictures. They’ll last longer.” To say I was stumped was a rather big understatement. Was she flirting with me?

I don’t get to think about it too much, Kyra looking my way every time she changed position or began to play around with the ball provided.

Not long after, I’m asked to join all the girls in front of the camera for a few shots. I knew it was coming but my heart still dropped into my stomach, and I choked on my breath. As expected, it’s Kyra who grabs my hand and instructs me to breathe slowly. Her thumb runs over the back of my hand and the motion begins to sooth me.

I take a place in front of the camera and the group of athletes. I’m not quite sure how to stand, but Kyra takes the space behind me, resting an arm over my shoulder and the other around my waist. It forces me to lean back naturally and as the girls around us take a stance, Eve continues to shoot.

“You and Kyra have a lot of chemistry by the looks of it, and she’s who you’re most comfortable with. Use that. Make it natural. The girls around you will adapt.” I expect the comment from Eve, but it’s Ali who puts a hand on my shoulder and reassures me.

With that instruction, and a nod from Eve, Kyra jumps on my back. It’s a pose that helps with showing off the boot and making me laugh. She then jumps off and takes my hands, turning me to face her as she dips. I rush to catch her as she falls, our faces a hair width apart.

Before I can think, I close the gap. My lips press hard against her’s as the camera shutter repeatedly goes off, but I don’t think anything of it. Until I pull away.

I almost drop her once my thoughts catch up to me.

“I am so sorry. What the fuck did I just do?” the rest of the girls had already walked away, so it was just us.

“Nothing you should regret or feel bad for.” Kyra stands right in front of me, our lips basically touching again.

“And maybe you should do it again.” I pause for a moment before leaning back down, kissing her again.

~~~~~

It takes three more weeks for the official brand release. After years of designing, making, spending every cent I had on these boots, Bia was officially the first woman specific sports boot.

Kyra’s first Arsenal game wearing them was the day of the release. She ended up talking about them in post-match interview after being asked “how were you excelling so well in the midfield today?” Not only was Bia’s sale numbers skyrocketing and the media account blowing up, so was my own.

I’d of course attended the match, excited to see them as an officially released boot. Someone had spotted me in the crowd and tweeted about it, talking about ‘the creator of that new boot brand is watching Kyra rep them for the first time live’. Someone else had caught me hugging Kyra on the pitch after the game and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

The rumours could only be expected. They also couldn’t be denied. Not without lying.

“I’m so proud of you.” The smooth Australian accent almost lulls me to sleep as we rest in Kyra’s bed, the sheets hiding our bare skin.

Her fingers trace shapes on my hip as she holds me, and I kiss along her collar bones and neck.

“And also very, very grateful for your genius brain creating those boots. Not only for helping my game play, but for bringing you to me.”

“I’m also grateful for my genius brain bringing us together.” I tease before softly kissing her.

It’d been impossible to escape her charm after our kiss at the photoshoot, so naturally we went on a date. And another, before she asked me to be her girlfriend. Eve sent me those photos just in case we wanted them in the brand release post. They currently sat in my hard drive, but it was very tempting to post a couple.

Kyra wanted a moment of privacy before the world knew, but I knew it didn’t matter whether it was out or a secret, as long as I had her.

A new power couple is on the rise in the world of Women’s Football. Creator of new women’s sports boots brand Bia, Y/n L/n, spotted with girlfriend, Arsenal and Matildas midfielder Kyra Cooney-Cross at a café in North London this morning before the London Derby. The couple confirmed their relationship mere days ago with photos of the lovebirds kissing from L/n’s brand shoot.

I laugh at the article as Kyra pulls into the Emirates parking, hand in mine. I’d become rather acquainted with her teammates and they begged me to come to the London Derby on the weekend. I couldn’t refuse when my girlfriend pulled out the puppy dog eyes and promised to ban me from any sort of affection, specifically kisses, for the week.

“You better win. I have a bet going with Niamh that you’ll beat her and I cannot lose a bet against her again.” Kyra chuckles and leaves with a kiss, sending me into the friends and family section of the stands.

It was nerve wracking going alone, but it was for Kyra and that was all I cared about. Supporting her like she supported me.

Kyra doesn’t start, which had been expected. Despite it, the girls were playing well and were up 3-1 at half-time. No yellow cards for either team had most people shocked though. The derby was known to be rough and physical, yet it seemed things were rather calm for the situation at hand.

There’s a substitute at half-time that puts Kyra back on the pitch. I blow a kiss when she looks my way as she jogs out and she pretends to catch it and place it on her cheek. Both of us are unaware of the interaction being caught on the big screen while people wait for the countdown.

It’s when extra time is announced that everyone in the stadium knows Arsenal have won the game. The Chelsea players look tired and defeated and the Arsenal girls don’t look much different, apart from the massive smiles that grace each one of their faces. The final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts in deafening cheers for the gunners, and I can’t help joining in.

After congratulating the blues on their performance and huddling with her own teammates, Kyra comes running for me. The guard on the other side of the barrier grows wary when I stand, clearly about to jump it, but Kyra gives him the okay and grabs me by the waist, helping me join her on the pitch.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” I whisper as she stands on her tippy toes.

Her arms wrap tightly around my neck and mine go around her waist as she pulls me in for a kiss. It’s deep and passionate and the crowd around us cheers, some of the girls joining in.

“We’re both kinda killing it aren’t we?” I let out a laugh as she hops on my back, pointing me in the direction of her Matilda’s teammates, even Sam, who are grouped in the middle of the field.

She sprinkles kisses around my face as they talk between each other and I’ve never felt more content.

Fuck cricket, football is the sport for me.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wsl #woso fanfics #the matildas x reader #the matildas #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney-cross #kyra cooney-cross x reader

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year ago

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Cinnamon Crush

PAIRING: chubby!Professor!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Student!Reader

WORDS: 3,036.

SUMMARY: It seemed a contagious crush had befallen your fellow pupils of your Psych class, and you were no exception… Only, however, your Professor did not spare you from your lustful thoughts.

WARNINGS: reader is of legal age!!!, teacher x pupil dynamic (with consent), female receiving (fingering), NSFW, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, humiliation kink, exhibitionism, praise kink.

A/N - thanks to @sugarpopss for feeding into my delusions and horny thots, we brainstormed this idea, and voila! hope you enjoy boo xox

Undertaking this human behaviour psychology class was proving to be both a tease and a taunt. Often, you were a diligent student, reserved in your ways, you never struggled with losing focus nor lacking attention, and yet, something about this class with each passing week, was provoking something devious from within you.

Your attention remained persistent and unwavering, however not on the topic at hand, though rather on your stout and round professor...

Aegon Targaryen, was one of those professors you really had not paid any mind to initially. You scarcely saw him during your first year, as he taught mostly the latter years of tertiary schooling: when his presence was not occupied in teaching tutorials and lectures, he was adamantly hidden away, reclusive to his own office or the teacher's cafeteria. Yet, passing by the corridors, you had heard many whispering gossip from previous pupils, giddily confronting each other of their little "crushes" over their chubby professor. Yet, you had never fully comprehended their words, nor what they saw in the man, till having come face to face with him.

Gradually, as the weeks went by during the semester, you had grown accustomed to his unnerving presence, grand stature, that deep, succulent voice as he monotonously spoke: the longer your keen eyes lusted over his minute details, over his physicality, the more beauty you saw in him. And despite not being that much your senior, he was still older and an authoritative figure in comparison to your colleagues.

His weight was never an issue, nor a flaw that had "turned you off" nor the others. In fact, tediously attempting to search for a textbook in the University's library, you had idly overheard a few of your colleagues gushing over the potential likelihood size of your professor's cock.

"You know what they say about the thicker men, right ladies? I bet it you girls, he'd have you rendered incapable of walking!"

"A girlfriend of mine slept with a guy much larger than herself in size, and she said it was the best sex she ever had-"

"Do you guys not see the way he rubs his belly from time to time, how adorable he looks? Or the way he has powder or icing over his lips that he tastes and licks off?-"

"Well I've made an appointment to see him after hours in his office to discuss the assignment, but I can't guarantee that's all that will happen... Did you guys not notice the way he winked at me? The way our fingers touched when he handed me back my paper?!"

Captivated by their gossip, you began to grow more attentive to your elder professor in class. Noticing the details your enthusiastic peers had picked up, each time you had captured a small indifference, you would make mental notes, often smiling to yourself mindlessly. Now you found yourself, gushing over minor, fleeting incidents, where your fingers brushed against each other, in exchange of papers, or that his larger mass lingered over your desk, during quizzes, lightly feeling the gentle, erotic touch of his distended belly over your arm.

At one point, secluded in your distant seat, in the lecture hall, rather than diligently dotting down notes as you habitually would, you found yourself sketching "A.T + [your initial]" bordered over an arrow-darted love-heart. Shaking your head to yourself, as if you had awoken from a haste sleep, you truly could not fathom the sheer sway Aegon had over you, and yet his oblivious efforts seemed to taunt you a little more...

What felt like 10 hours was a mere one hour that had dulled by. Having spent countless hours deep into the previous night tediously studying, you felt tiresome quarrelling against the inevitable slumber that your body so desperately craved. Your head often bobbing up and down, eyes darting wide awake, shooting up towards your plump professor at the front, writing on the blackboard, his broad back turned towards you. The screeching sound of the white chalk against it, was steady enough to keep you pathetically awake.

Now that your attention was resumed once more on his figure, you delicately glanced over at how fitted his dress shirt looked around certain soft edges. How tight the fabric had grown, since the semester began, as often his pupils sought food as a way to his heart, many had believed. His thighs stocky, you could not deny that his backside was chunky, an innate yet heinous urge to spank and squeeze at his porky flesh. The thought was enough to send a thrilling, dull ache between your thighs, as you hastily squirmed and readjusted in your seat.

Now resuming his focus back unto the class, your eyes widened lusciously at the breathtaking sight of his face, and that swollen stomach. One podgy hand rested atop its distended centre, as the other dropped the chalk to the side, and held up his notes. The tight sleeves of his white dress shirt, folded up only barely making it below his elbows. The black buttons of his tight fitted shirt, close to bursting at its seams, another backed goodie would do the trick to pop them right off, you fathomed. An excitement at the sheer, imaginative scene, Aegon slumped comfortably on a desk chair, relishing in the last few bites of a powdered doughnut, and you... Nestled cosily onto his wide, meaty lap, his thick arm wrapped around your side, his pudgy hand finding its way firmly gripping your thigh, as the other held the pastry good. And your head laying against his stocky shoulder, admiring the man, as your hand slowly, and soothingly rubbed circles against his swelling, tense belly.

Now the preemptive wetness, you could just feel brewing at your aching cunt. The moisture felt thick and warm, at the slightest of movement from below, closing your legs together desperately, fearful that your professor could practically smell you from the distance. Yet he remained unfazed, continuing on his tangent talk. Shoving his reading glasses further into his nose bridge, as he read the loose pages before him. Examining the room, the class was present yet not full, only a few missing, yet everyone either in their own world, whether sketching doodles in their notebooks, or gazing across online sites, the few at the front however, kept their sole attention on Aegon. Yet in your horizon, they stood blocking his view of you further in the back... You were certain your existence in his class was close to fictitious. Just a shadow in the background. He scarcely spoke to you, except for a quick "well done" or haste compliment on an assignment, you were merely just there. Or so you had credulously deluded yourself to believe.

You had never acted so impulsively and yet, you felt that carnal urge, that burning desire to be fulfilled. Envisioning Aegon in the privacy of your dorm was never satisfactory, often always distracted or interrupted, your ethereal vision of him taken from you in an instant. And yet, here he stood before you, in all his glory... Why deny yourself the pleasure? You promised it would be a mild, quick venture.

Your hand began to idly snake its way down below your desktop, whilst the other reached for your black denim jacket, covering your legs and skirt, acting as though a chilly breeze swept by. Your eager fingers pulling up your skirt, as it found its way to the soaked cloth of your sheer, cotton panties. Your cheeks instinctively flushed pink, heat coursing against your face, as the humiliation set in at just how fragile you felt against Aegon’s mere presence, a man that you had not even conversed for any longer than a mere minute.

The thought was unbearable and yet you could not help but succumb to your desires for him.

Panties tugged to the side, a finger slowly slipped in carefully, meticulous to not expose yourself in your movements or your sounds. God forbid, if you had helplessly let out a moan, a cry for his name, you would cease to exist.

With a slow and familiar pace, your hand began to pump in and out of your soaking entrance, your finger delved shyly inside, encircling your silky folds, as your eyes remained fixated on Aegon. Instead your mind alternatively ventured into the aching thought, instead of pleasing yourself, your generous professor was instead in your stead, eager to teach you his wisdom, how to please a woman, how to psych your mind to pleasure through his experienced touch, and the constant praise of what a “good girl” you’ve been for him, his best pupil yet.

Envisioning his handsome, soft face just inches apart from yours, as his plump, wet lips grazed over yours before falling into a kiss. Wondering what his mouth would taste like, concluding a sweet, cinnamon taste lingering from all the baked goodies he would devour. You ached to feel his adipose flesh beneath your grasp, kneading at his plump, fair skin, suckling at his sensitive fat, leaving red, blatant marks on his pale skin. Your free hand now rested on your desk, you firmly gripped the edge of the desk, intuitive for some support, as your hip bucked slightly forward, shoving your finger deeper into your oozing cunt.

The excitement remained stagnant, and having noticed no changes to your surroundings, no curious or suspicious looks earned, you confidently implored, inserting another digit between your velvet folds, your motions stretching your walls out, as your pace began to haste a notch.

The tight feeling of your innocent walls clenching around your fingers, your mind wandered to the memory of overhearing the notion of Aegon’s cock. Your mind intoxicated with the idea of its girth, the words of your fellow peers, echoing in your mind as you relished in the sensation of Aegon’s thick, throbbing cock painfully stretching you out instead.

“Thicker dudes have thicker cocks, c'mon this is known. They’ll stretch you out and it will hurt like fuck at first, but God is it worth it—”

Deeper your digits shoved themselves, eager to graze over that sweet, sweet spot, leaning more forward over your desk instinctively, your free hand gripping the desk, now subtly covering your mouth, in an attempt to muffle the moans. From time to time, you needed to muster the consciousness to open your eyes, trying to mask your actions with some normalcy, as your professor continued to speak. You swore for a split second, that his eyes hovered towards your direction, yet he persevered, unfazed by your discrete, promiscuous nature.

Gods, you were desperate for the man. If he had simply called out your name, that would be supple enough to make you cum.

Much to your oblivious and ignorant mind, you hadn’t realised that your jacket began to slip away beneath your knees, from all your squirming and pacing motions. Slowly and slowly, too occupied in your conceited ways, the jacket finally fell to the floor, your legs spread apart to accomodate for your hand and its motion, you hadn’t realised your licentious exposure, until the air conditioned chill of the room settled across your bare skin. Yet your hand remained inside of you, your pace now slowed, as your eyes fell back to Aegon, your awareness regaining itself. Seconds spared as you froze in motion, before realising your professors’s gaze remained fixated firmly onto you, his lilac orbs dropping down intently eyeing your lower half. Hastily, pushing his glasses against the nose bridge once more, clearing his throat, he looked hastily down as he stuttered on his words. Immediately, you gathered yourself into composure. That familiar, prior flustered feeling coaxed you once more, the embarrassment visibly flaring in your meek face, as you dared not to look towards Aegon.

Caught in fuss, as you prayed for your existence to simply disappear, the class had been dismissed, and you hastily attempted to gather your belongings, as they fell to your feet clumsily. Just as you’d picked up the last of the fallen stationary, shoving everything into your handbag, the sudden shout for your name, from a familiar, deep voice boomed from below the lecture hall.

“Y/N, if I could see you for a second, please?” Aegon shouted, as you frighteningly stared at him, shyly nodding as you hesitantly walked down the steps. Aegon remained, partially sat at the edge of his wooden desk, his thick arms folded across his belly, making him look even more brooding. Never this up close, you only just realised how feeble you looked against his larger stature, a few inches taller, yet wider than you his frame would engulf yours, if anyone looked from beyond him, your presence would go unnoticed. His eyes remained locked onto the entrance of the class, as each pupil filed out, some without a goodbye and others desperate for some acknowledgement before giddily pacing out, as he exchanged friendly goodbye wink.

Now it was solely you two remaining. The room felt vastly larger, yet suffocating simultaneously. This overbearing tightness brewing in your chest, as you clenched your notebook closer to your chest. Despite now being fully clothed and composed, you felt naked in his presence, the shame settling in.

“How’s the semester been treating you, Y/N?”

That was strange, you hadn’t expected him to ask that. Whether it was the unexpected question or the shame, you struggled to muster the strength of your voice, as the words remained choked in your throat.

“I-I suppose it’s okay. Stressful, but okay, S-Sir.”

“I gather you’ve been busy with your studies, with exams and what not coming up. I rarely see you out of the library, not even the cafeteria.”

He noticed? You could scarcely fathom his words, and yet it was true. With the semester’s end exams looming in the horizon, you had kickstarted your thorough studies, desperate to cram every bit of information into your memory before it was too late. At times, you were so preoccupied, food was not an option, otherwise your roommate would politely gather you some sustenance from outside.

“I-I just don’t have the time for anything else these days, th-than to study… S-Sir.”

As you found courage to respond, in the meanwhile, Aegon had shut the door close, the hall becoming just a little more suffocating, trapping you in his sole presence, before he resumed his previous stance.

“Is that why you wished to put on that little show up there? Is that your call for help, hmm?”

Taken aback, you felt the scarlet blush of your cheeks flare up in heat, your lips mouthing open yet not words echoed through. Your eyes pondered to the ground seldomly, unable to maintain eye contact, as Aegon released a growling chuckle.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I suppose, I was just not expecting that from you—”

A wave of disappointment wretched and hurled in your stomach, as his words engraved in your mind. Shooting your eyes rapidly up at him, shaking your head you profusely began to apologise.

“It-It was unlike me, Aegon- I-I mean Professor. I am not the type that does ugh- that sort of thing, I-I am unsure of what came over me, p-please don’t fail me—”

As you breathlessly plead your case, taking a small step towards Aegon, you felt your eyes swelling with hot tears, as one fell across your tender cheek.

“Hey-Hey, what makes you think I would fail you? I’m not disappointed, Y/N—”

A loose strand of your hair had fallen besides your face unknowingly, yet Aegon took the decency to brush it across, stroking the strand behind your ear, as his pudgy hand cupped your face, the other gently rubbing at your side for reassurance. His touch was just as divine as you had imagined, feeling your senses slowly begin to collapse.

“I’m just surprised… A little esteemed. If I’m being quite honest, I would expect that behaviour from the others, but you? Not in my wildest dreams… You never cease to amaze me, huh?”

The last words he uttered, his thumb lightly flicked at your chin, lifting it subtly up, as he nudged for you to look up at him. Met with his warm smile, you bashfully returned the favour, completely smitten.

“I suppose I’ll have to change classes? Professor Lannister might—”

“There will be no such thing, you’re staying here. You’re my best student. And besides, Lannister’s a perv. One look at you, and he’ll think he has a chance.”

“B-But, where do we- how do we move on f-from this, exactly, Sir?”

Aegon resumed leaning back on the desk, plopping himself down, the wood creaked beneath his heavier mass, as his hands remained firmly holding yours.

“We tell no one… No one needs to know. I still teach you and you, well—”

Licking his soft lips, his eyes feasted over you, hungrily lingering from head to toe, devouring you as if you were some dessert out before him, that he was about to spoil himself silly with.

“—you can sit up there and still tease me all you wish, but perhaps… You would rather find more comfort in the privacy of my office. How about you meet me there at 5pm, just for some one on one lessons. I guarantee it’ll help with your studies. Let me help you to ugh- prepare.”

“I-I suppose that would be okay, if that is what you best advise. I-Is that what you want from me, Sir? For me to keep my pretty mouth shut, and do as I am told?”

Now the tables turned, the sudden outburst of an ego from your end, having been swayed by Aegon’s sly remarks, he remained somewhat… Impressed. Closing the distance between you both, his gut now pressing up against you, your breasts being pushed up against it. Precisely as how you creatively envisioned it, his plump lips crushed against your own, the sweet, sugary taste lingering in his mouth was a pleasant one, as his tongue pried its way into your own, before releasing as he inhaled a deep breath.

“You keep being that pretty, obedient girl I know you are, and I’ll show you just how proud I am of you.”

general taglist (bold means I could not tag you) - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe

credit for divider - @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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f1oricide · 1 year ago

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We all have cravings

Yan! Mikey x reader

This is kinda like a part two for the Yan Mikey hc I made. Also just know this is strictly fiction, I do NOT support this Irl if you do please seek help. This is my contribution to horrortober ig. I did not proof read this at all so I hope u enjoy my brain rot.

Tw: build up, poor writing, blood, kidnapping, yandere themes, cannibalistic themes, anxiety, panic attacks, nonconsensual touching (nonsexual), overall bad time for y/n

I hate my job. Customer service is bitch in a half, I swear to god customer service employees are doing gods work. I can’t even wipe tables in piece without some lady yelling at me about how her frappe has too much ice like it’s a global issue. What’s worse is how I spend 8 hours of my life for this, I need a better job.

Walking down the slightly empty streets of New York, my body aching for my beloved bed. I look at the shops as I walk by, absorbing all the trinkets and doodads inside. One place though, stopped me in my tracks, a quaint little bakery near by an alleyway. the inside had a golden glow to it, it was almost unreal, beautiful, and the smell was amazing.

so as any normal young adult would do, I walk in, not knowing what I want to buy. I instantly feel regret setting inside my stomach, why did I walk in? Oh god I can’t just leave without buying anything, maybe they didn’t noticed I walked in? Looking around right as that thought sped through my mind, I made eye contact with the baker, they greeted me, but god of course they saw me.

Well due to social obligation, I HAVE to buy something. Panic started to rise as I still have no idea what to buy, knowing the baker isn’t even rushing me, the panic is still there. Just as I thought all hope was lost, I felt another pair of eyes on me. Turning I see a man in a trench coat and fedora, staring at me through the glass like I’m one of the wonders of the world. Weirdo. We make eye context for a second before he snaps out of it, and stumbles inside.

Thank god, an out I thought as the man walked closer to the counter. “You can order first if you’d like, Im still deciding.” We made eye contact again, despite the added difficulty the fedora he was wearing made. “Wow, thanks stranger! You know this place has some delicious raspberry sweet rolls! I totally recommend them if you haven’t tried any!” Sweet rolls? As a recommendation? This dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder, but considering I don’t know what else to get, I might as well try it, what’s the harm? “Hmm that does sound tempting, maybe I will” making sure to add a smile after, the man seems to beam at my remark. “Trust me, they are AMAZING especially with some chamomile tea and vanilla scones”

Pfft- What are you? A rich old white British lady? “Pfft hahahah! Good one, it really does sound like I am huh?” He continues to laugh even harder as the “joke” sets in as I stare in shock and horror. Did I really just say that out loud? “My names Mikey, what’s yours stranger?” He says while wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh uhm- y/n” were doing introductions now I guess. “Well y/n it’s nice to meet you” holding his hand out, I didn’t fail to notice the green skin and the three fingers outstretched towards me.

Oh my god, what the hell?! An excuse, think of an excuse. “We should probably order, don’t wanna hold up the line” good one me. He looks behind us and I follow suit; low and behold, no one else of course. He chuckles before turning back to me and says, “I guess you have a point”. Retracting his hand he turns to the cashier and places his order. The cashier told him that he’s gonna have to wait for 20 minutes for it to be ready, Mikey nods and turns to me before asking the cashier for those raspberry sweet rolls. Oh god-

“Oh can you make those separate?” I sputter before Mikey quickly answers, “I insist, I don’t want you to waste your money if you don’t like it!” Convincing argument plus free food? You win this round “Mikey”.

After paying Mikey and I go to sit down at a nearby booth. Maybe I have him pegged wrong my mind started rationalizing. Maybe it’s a medical condition? We sat for a good minute in silence as I’m overthinking per usual. “So, what do plan to do with a whole loaf of zope bread?” I say to avoid the loud thoughts buzzing through my head. “Oh! Well I was planning on making it myself but I might as well try this places zone, I’m planning on pairing it with some-“ before he can continue, the cashier called out the raspberry sweet rolls to catch out attention.

I got the rolls and walked back to the booth. “Well, here’s my order”

…

“So…see ya…”

Before I could even take a step though, Mikey shot up “whaaat?! B-but you didn’t even try it! I want to see if you like it or not!” He stared at me with pleading eyes, like a dog begging it’s human for a treat. Why is he so invested in this? “I didn’t think you’d want to know my feedback..” “well duhhh, I recommend it to you, I just have to know i hit the nail on the head!” Oh… well whatever it takes to leave faster. I grabbed a roll and popped it in my mouth, it was EXPLODING with flavor. I think Mikey could tell with the knowing smirk that spread across his face.

After that we started talking more in the restaurant, I got to know him more. Apparently he has three more brothers, when he made me guess which one he was, it wasn’t hard to tell he’s the youngest. Eventually his order was done, disappointment sent in me because, well, this was actually a pleasant interaction with a not so total stranger. Acquaintance if you will. By the time his order was ready, I already ate all the rolls, so I guess this is it.

“It was nice meeting you, I didn’t really plan staying out this late.” I said as we walked out, the sky nearly dark. “It was reallyyy nice meeting you too, you know…” he stated reaching in his pocket. “If you need any more expert cooking advice, give me a call!”

That should’ve been it, but noooo, I just HAD to call back, we just HAD to get to know each other more, he just HAD to show me his “secret” identity…I just HAD to fall in love…no..for his tricks

It all started with food, a fucking roll no less. He fed me and like a wild animal I kept coming back. I ignored all the red flags, all my friends concerns, not noticing how they quickly left my life after venting to Mikey about them. I kept coming back for more like a dumb dumb animal.

But now here I am, a small closet with one twin bed and barren walls, no fan or vent. What did I do to deserve this? What avengers level threat did I cause to end up here? There’s barely anything to do besides relive old mistakes and sweat. Dare I say it, I even miss my job and being a useful member of society.

The door finally opened the reveal the devil himself, Mikey. But somethings off…I’ve been here long enough to read Mikey’s face like a book. He looks nervous, like he wants something nervous… fear started to creep within me, what did he want now?

Usually he brings stuff in like crafts or food and water, but this time, it’s just him. Closing the door behind him, he speaks. “Hi my Angel…” a grimace grew on my face. That nickname used to make me swoon, but now it makes me want to throw up. “I have a very important question to ask you”

This was the question that ruined my life…and I thought it couldn’t get any worse… he wanted me…ME. To… just the thought is making me gag- EAT HIM. LITERALLY. The thoughts in my head started swarming me, his justifications and explanations fall on deaf ears as the room swirls around me. He gently grabs my forearms snapping me back, since when did I start crying? I can’t even breath right, I feel like I’m drowning.

“Listen, I know it sounds really really REALLY crazy, but I need you to trust me… you’ll be okay. This will be good for us! We’ll be together all the time isn’t that great?” No, it’s not great, far from it actually. “I won’t force you to do it now of course, take your time, I’ll wait, I’ll always wait for you”

Ever since then, no matter how much I stalled, it was only putting off the inevitable. No matter what I did, it never swayed him. Actually, it did, but not how I would’ve wanted. He started giving me less and less to eat. It started off small with a few less portions, but I never noticed the twitch in his smile whenever I put down his encouragement to chomp on his arm. He started giving less portions and no breakfast anymore, id be lucky if he gave me dinner.

Im hungry, starving even. It hurts, it hurts so so much. He would always come in more often, lifting his arm and encouraging me to bite. “Come on, you can do it baby”. It pisses me off. How dare you kidnap me after I gave you my trust. How dare you put me in a cramped tiny room, having to solely rely on you for everything. HOW DARE YOU force me to break EVERYTHING I thought was RIGHT all while you look at me and TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.

I hate you. I failed to notice hot tears running down my face. I hate you. I also failed to notice how hard I shook, how my teeth grinding against each other until it hurt. FUCKING I HATE YOU

Red, it’s all I can see. I used laughing when any character in media say they saw red, can you blame me? It sounds so…dumb, but I get it now. I understand, how ironic. Apparently, I could..taste red too…

Snapping back to reality a brick of drowsiness crashes down onto me, I must’ve had some high adrenaline because my jaw started hurting like a bitch. Liquid runs down my jaw, it’s warm..fresh. Why do I feel something on my tongue-

Shock slaps me in the face, my eyes go as wide as saucers, what have I done?? Looking up at Mikey I see the sheer amount of euphoria in his face, his eyes holding so much love, it might spill out. I need this thing out of me, I need HIM out. I gag trying to spit it out but he quickly puts his hand on my mouth. “you can do it, swallow quickly, it’ll all be over, your doing amazing” I don’t even think before swallow the lump down. The worst part about this whole experience was feeling the lump of meat slide down my throat and plop into my stomach. My mouth instantly starts salivating, and I’m forced to question if it’s because of the hunger still in me or the sheer amount of disgust and horror in me trying to throw it up while Mikey whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

Everything is too much. The air is too hot, too heavy, too wet. It feels horrible on my skin. It’s too noisy, to crowded, too much. Mikey only hugs me tight to his chest, his arm still bleeding , all while I lean in considering how it’s the only comfort I’ll get out of this hell hole. “I knew you’d trust me…I love you.. so so sooo much. I’ll never leave your side. We’re bound together as one, isn’t that great?”

All I could do was sob violently, slowly passing out, everything slowly fading to black.

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #fanfic #rottmnt fanfiction #yandere rottmnt #yandere #yandere michelangelo #yandere mikey #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #wtf is wrong with me

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lurkingshan · 9 months ago

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Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. All but one of these are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Chaser Game W

Fuyu got a personality transplant this week and I have officially given up on this show being what I hoped it was. Enjoy the mess and the humiliation kink and don't look for consistent writing, logical plot, or deeper themes and you will find some things to enjoy. Like these two beautiful ladies making out a bunch!

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka

I love this show so much, y'all. This week we got the return of Sakae's selfish chaos ex, Mizuki, and because this is a show by and for adults, this resulted in our leads engaging in some proper communication, clarifying their feelings for each other, and sharing their first kiss by the end of the episode. I loved seeing more of Sakae and Mizuki's dynamic, and I just know if Soga wasn't in the picture Mizuki would already be in with Sakae again. Sakae is a soft touch and Mizuki clearly knows how to play him. But thankfully, Soga has already wormed his way into Sakae's loyal heart, so he was not tempted to waver. And for Soga, who is experiencing a queer awakening via his relationship with Sakae, Mizuki's presence was a much needed jolt to sort out his own feelings and decide he wants to try a relationship despite his concerns about not staying in Osaka long-term. I also loved the way their friends rallied around them to push Sakae and Soga to figure their shit out, and the sauna scenes will never get old.

Perfect Propose

It's official, I have adopted Kai as my child and will be forming a protection squad. This show is striking a good tonal balance of being fairly downbeat and serious, between Kai's past and Hiro's current work/life balance issues, but also uplifting in how their relationship builds. I like that they talk to each other so honestly about what they're feeling for each other, and Kai's quiet confidence that Hiro returns his feelings and just needs to come to terms with it is both hilarious and correct. My favorite thing that happened in this episode was Kai confidently noting all the ways Hiro’s body was responding to him and asking him to “be conscious of it.” Kai wants Hiro to be conscious of Kai’s feelings but also of his own responses, and he’s asking him not to look away from it and pretend he doesn’t know there’s something between them. I love the confidence of that.

And I sympathize with Hiro, as well, because it's not just that he's never considered being with a man before--he also just doesn't feel he has anything to offer to a partner right now given his brutal work situation. His guilt and shame for missing the festival after inviting Kai to go together was real, and you can see that he just can’t fathom having anything to give with the situation he’s in at work right now. The trick will be trusting that Kai can accept those limitations until he’s able to find a better balance, and then actually taking steps to pay attention to what he needs and wants, both in this relationship and in his career. Hiro has not been taking care of himself and it's catching up to him.

Ossan's Love Returns

A downbeat week for this show, and an episode that did not entirely work for me. I liked some of the themes they were exploring in this one, but it was all missing the humor that I've come to rely on and I don't feel that all the story threads pulled together as tightly as they normally do. In particular, my head is inquisitively tilted at the show's decision to make Maki and Haruta's wedding episode feel like such a misery slog, to focus primarily on the tension and strife leading up to the event rather than the joy it should inspire, and then to stay in the melancholy after a small moment of catharsis for our couple (and some season 1 flashbacks) by focusing on the sadness their marriage inspired in their various lonely suitors rather than their own wedded bliss. Seeing a wedding in jbl is a practically unheard of occurrence; a bit more queer joy was in order IMO and its absence was notable. I also thought the swing from Kurosawa beginning to accept a new role in Haruta’s life to suddenly going back to being lovelorn felt abrupt and poorly constructed. It's not that I think these ideas are unfounded given the show's focus on older male characters who feel past their prime for romance, but the execution was not quite right. And of course I am not too keen on the death flagging we got at the end for Kurosawa; I really hope the show will not take this story in a tragic direction for him.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

I have still only seen the first four episodes of this; sadly, the next batch is not yet available to me. But soon! In the meantime, let's revisit Nomoto sobbing over a lesbian film. She's just like me fr.

Next week we'll be continuing all of these plus adding My Strawberry Film, the final Drama Shower (go here for an explanation on what that is from @bengiyo) show for the season! I continue to be delighted by this embarrassment of jql riches.

#chaser game w #sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka #perfect propose #ossan's love returns #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #japanese bl #japanese gl #japanese ql corner #shan shouts into the void

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pixel-percy · 11 months ago

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☕ Matthew Murdock's favorite barista happens to be his next-door neighbor & is now his girlfriend. They just can't get enough of each other. ☕

☕ Word Count: 919 ☕ Music Vibes: Seven by Jung Kook (feat. Latto) ☕ Warning(s): Smut (piv), mentions of blood/injury, & language ☕ A/N: I have nothing to say other than enjoy to my fellow Matthew Murdock lovers in chat lmao I planned an entire week of these little blurbs so they'll be up on their respective days! I hope you all enjoy ❤️

Monday

“I’ve only got 10 minutes,” you gasped into Matt’s mouth, one hand already pushing up your skirt and tugging down your underwear. You lifted yourself ever so slightly from the arm of your couch so the fabric could be slid down your legs, his lips never leaving yours during the process.

“You said that 10 minutes ago,” he replied, a cheeky smile apparent despite the back and forth of your kisses, biting, tasting. Your makeup was going to need a touch-up, your hair a redo, and the clock was running down before your shift technically started. Thankfully, owning your own business had its perks—like making your own schedule and allowing tardiness when the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen or his lawful counterpart, Matthew Murdock, wanted to be between your legs.

“Foggy’s not gonna be happy you’re late,” you muster. Matt’s hands found your hips, gripping them a bit roughly, thumbs digging into the dough of them. It was hard enough that it might bruise but you loved that.

“It’s only 20 minutes.” The words were mumbled as he wrapped his forearm around your lower back, and a squeak left you as he pulled your lower body toward him. Your head softly plopped onto the couch, a smirk on his lips when your eyes fell on his face.

“If you hadn’t been out on patrol so late last night we could’ve done this more—” He gave you a firm pull by your hips, a gasp escaping your lips, and positioned your back in a hedonistic arc on the sofa’s arm.

“I’ll make it up to you when I get the chance,” he said and you knew he was good for it. If the last month or so of exclusively seeing each other proved anything is that the company and the sex were mutually spectacular. Even if Matt’s “job” sometimes got in the way or had him falling into your apartment at odd hours of the evening—which wasn’t unlike the first time you both met and he mistook your apartment for his. There was a lot of confusion and blood that night as you patched him up, but it led to this so you couldn’t complain.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you tease. In that moment you felt him pull you up—to which you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn’t long before his condom-covered cock pushed past your entrance, still gentle but with a purpose. A moan escaped your lips and your back arched, pulling up off the arm ever so slightly.

The sun was just high enough to pass the buildings next door and its rays illuminated you both through your half-drawn curtains. What a picture you two must have been. Your pleated skirt practically folded back against your exposed stomach, red sweater bunched up under your breasts, and Matt, still suited up, tie thrown across his shoulder, and buried inside of you. What a show for anyone nosey enough to look.

Matt’s grip on your thighs didn’t falter, even when you reached up to grab his wrists, nails digging a bit into his arm as you held on, pleasure already building up in you. You were never worried about Matt’s aim, as far as you had experienced, he never missed and this time was certainly no different.

“Shit,” he said, the momentum of his hips picking up with each thrust. As much you both wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and play hooky together, Matt had a pretty important case to figure out and you had coffee to serve. He also had nothing to prove to you—the first night you’d spent together confirmed that multiple rounds were not an issue and neither was pleasing you.

You came first, a convulsive sort of feeling, and Matt followed soon after like he always did. It wouldn’t surprise you at this point if he timed it somehow… He gently put you down, a bit breathless, and grabbed the back of the couch with one hand for support.

“You’re gonna be late,” you say, also breathless.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling himself out of you and stumbling back a little when your legs dropped from his back. You readjusted yourself on the seat and picked your underwear up from where they’d fallen onto the floor. Matt moved to your bathroom with the condom he was already tying off and you followed behind, a little slower, the heels of your boots hard against the floor.

Matt was fixing his suit when you entered, underwear twirling on your index finger—a pair of red lace, your favorites. Also, Matt’s. He smiled at your approach and set his tie in place before he turned to face you. Without a word, you took your underwear and slid it into one of the front pockets of his pants.

“Bring those back to me later, would you?” you asked, getting close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips.

“Mmm,” he hummed and leaned down to place a similar kiss that got you into this situation in the first place. “I’ll think about it.”

Matt turned to leave the bathroom and you gave him a small pat on his ass, warranting a chuckle.

“Good luck on your case!” you shouted after him and received a ‘thanks!’ in return before the door to your apartment opened and closed promptly after. You turned back to the mirror in the background and nibbled on your bottom lip, a stupid grin plastered on your face as you started to address your hair.

#matthew murdock #matt murdock #daredevil #marvel #matthew murdock smut #matthew murdock fanfic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfic #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #smut #fanfiction

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pastoralnhappy · 4 months ago

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Jonah and his Belly…and his Whale

Introduction

“I am a chubby Catholic seminarian,” I muttered to myself as I adjusted the ill-fitting cassock, the fabric clinging awkwardly to my frame. The echoes of the morning prayers still lingered in the chapel, a reminder of the spiritual journey I had embarked upon. My heart was heavy with the weight of self-doubt, yet buoyed by a faith that had guided me through many trials.

When I first arrived at the seminary, I wasn’t quite as chubby. The rigorous schedule and the strict discipline had initially kept my 18 year old body in shape. But over time, the communal meals and the warm, encouraging words of certain priests had allowed me to indulge in the pleasures of food. Father Thomas, our jovial and rotund head of the seminary, always said that a good meal was a gift from God, and I was inclined to believe him.

“Jonah, you must enjoy the blessings God provides,” he would say with a hearty laugh, his own round belly shaking. “A happy heart and a full stomach go hand in hand.”

As I made my way to the refectory for breakfast, the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon filled the air. My stomach growled in anticipation, a reminder of my earthly desires that often conflicted with my spiritual aspirations. Sitting down at the long wooden table, I joined my fellow seminarians in silent prayer, thanking the Lord for the sustenance we were about to receive.

The clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation soon filled the room. I caught snippets of discussions about the visiting bishop’s potential stance on various issues, the excitement tempered by a hint of apprehension. Today was a special day, after all, and there was a palpable buzz of excitement among the seminarians.

It was then that I noticed Brother Michael, seated across from me, staring intently at his plate. He was new to the seminary, a quiet, thoughtful young man with a scholarly air. His thin frame and serious demeanor were a stark contrast to my own. He looked up, meeting my gaze with a shy smile.

“Good morning, Brother,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Good morning, Brother Jonah,” he replied softly. “Are you looking forward to the bishop’s visit?”

“Indeed, I am. It’s not every day we get to hear from such a distinguished guest,” I replied, my voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

Our conversation drifted to the day’s schedule, the bishop’s likely topics of discussion, and the latest news from the Vatican. Despite my outward composure, I couldn’t shake the feeling that today would bring something significant, something that might alter the course of my journey in the seminary.

As the morning sun cast its golden rays through the stained glass windows, illuminating the faces around me, I felt a surge of hope. My size, my indulgences, my journey—they were all part of a greater plan, one that I was slowly beginning to understand. And as I bowed my head in silent prayer once more, I whispered to myself, “I am a chubby Catholic seminarian, but I am also so much more.”

#hierophilia #bhm weight gain #seminarians #chubby priest #fat priests #college weight gain #catholic #wg story

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sweetwhispersofchaos · 11 months ago

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Mornings of Gold

I'm so far behind its not even funny, but I have FINALLY finished my second entry for @roosterforme Top Gun Rocktober event. I used my all time favorite song to create this completely self indulgent romance piece and I have zero apologies for it. ;) Pairing: Phoenix and Bob Words: 5433 Warnings: fluff, mild smut (no grave detail), kissing, did I mention fluff? *I do not own the Top Gun characters.*

Lightening illuminated the windows while rain tap danced across the glass. A deafening crack of thunder shook the entirety of Bob’s apartment, rattling some of his frames on the wall and causing both he and Phoenix to jump in their seats. They were deep into their third round of Go-Fish and a lunch wager was riding on the winner of this last bout. It was serious and they both were concentrating so hard on their cards that the storm jolted them out of their haze.

“I hope the power holds.” Bob said while studying the dwindling stack of cards in his hand.

“And if it doesn’t, we light some candles and keep going.”

“Phee, I don’t have any candles.”

“Floyd. I thought you were a Boy Scout?”

“I didn’t say I was a good one.” he whispered with a sheepish shrug.

“Thank goodness for flashlights.”

“I don’t have those either.”

Phoenix let out a huff “Guess I should plug my phone in, just in case huh?” she said exasperatedly as she stood to grab her charger from her backpack.

Phoenix loved being back in Lemoore with Bob, despite returning to their original squadrons. She missed flying with Bob, but their weekly meet ups for movies and card games helped. After the uranium mission they seemed to gravitate to one another, no one else able to understand the weight of what they went through together, especially since it was top secret, and they weren’t allowed to speak of it. Between the bird strike and the mission, both of them had changed and they were thankful they had each other to lean on. Bob had suffered nightmares for a while and Phoenix had trouble enjoying things outside of work in the “real world” like she used to. Their friendship carried them through those foggy first few months post mission.

Things had started to feel warm and fuzzy to Natasha about three months after their return to Lemoore. She was spending a lot of time with Bob, and they had become relaxed with each other. Movie nights now consisted of Bob wrapping his arm around her while she leaned into his side or Phoenix running her hands through his hair when he laid his head in her lap on the couch. Card games now include occasional rubs of one foot on the others under the table. Trips into town might find them holding hands and the one Saturday they drove out to the coast Bob held her hand on the gear shift of his truck the whole way. Neither of them spoke of the closeness they were experiencing; it was comfortable and comforting and neither seemed to find issue with it or the need to discuss.

Phoenix returned to the small dinning nook where Bobs card table and folding chairs were set up. He was quite a minimalist, but she didn’t mind, up until now anyways. She plugged the phone in then flopped on to her backwards chair, straddling it in her plaid pajama pants and eyed Bob mischievously. Another rumble of thunder rattled the walls, and her grin grew in feigned innocence.

Bob looked up at her over his glasses with a furrowed brow, then back to his cards.

“Got any eights?”

“Go fish”

He grunted and picked up a card from the pile between them. “Phee, how is it possible you are so good at everything right down to child level card games?”

She giggled at her bespeckled best friend.

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” She winked at Bob, and he shook his head with a boyish grin.

“I’m pretty sure I’m a few cards away from owing you sushi.”

“I think you might be right.”

And he was. Moments later Phoenix won and jumped out of her chair, fist pumping the air victoriously. Bob just smiled at her then cleaned up the pile of cards.

“Movie time! What do you want to watch?” she asked, flitting into the living room, and flopping down onto the couch.

Bob called from the kitchen where he was cleaning up their snack mess from the table.

“I chose last week. It’s your turn.”

“Ok let me see what I can find.”

Bob joined her on the couch, pulling her legs into his lap as he sat next to her.

“My feet probably stink, Bob.”

“I don’t smell anything, so you’re good.”

She smirked and went back to scrolling through the movies on the streaming service app on Bobs tv.

Suddenly Phoenix sat up quickly, her legs flying out of his lap.

“OH!” she shouted, causing Bob to startle. “This is my favorite movie ever!”

“I thought Die Hard was your favorite?” He asked.

“That’s my favorite Christmas movie.”

“Phee. Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again for the hundredth time, Robert.” she said as she gently popped his chest with the back of her hand.

Bob put his hands up in defense then looked up at the screen to see a picture of a heavily made-up David Bowie surrounded by furry characters.

“Labyrinth? What’s it about?”

She whipped around on the couch to look at him with complete disbelief on her face.

“You’re joking? You’ve never heard of Labyrinth!? I know you’re a baby and all but it’s only one of the most amazing cult classics of the 1980’s. David Bowie, Jennifer Connelly, and a host of Jim Henson puppets.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “I am not that young and no, I haven’t. I’m gonna to be honest Phee, this surprises me.”

“What? Why?” she asked frowning.

“Your idea of a top-notch movie usually involves heavy gunfire and a string of cuss words throughout. Not Muppets.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes then pressed play. She shifted her legs around so she could lean into his side and Bob instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they settled in to watch the fantasy movie.

“Yeah well, this one is special from my childhood and my favorite song on the planet is in it.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you which one when it pops up.”

The opening refrains of Bowie began to trickle through the surround sound as they relaxed together on the couch. Somewhere along the way Bob began to rub small circles on Nat’s bare arm and her head came to rest on his shoulder.

Later in the movie, the main character of Sarah bit into a laced peach and Natasha whispered up to Bob.

“This is it. The dream sequence has my favorite song.”

The light melody of As the World Falls Down by David Bowie began to serenade the masked dancers on screen and Natashas eyes lit up. She had always loved this part as a child. The stunning attire, the soft lullaby of the love song. As she grew up, she began to realize the whole movie was a euphemism for coming of age and the song gained all new meaning for her. The lyrics started to take the shape of her journey out into the real world. College, commissioning, flight school, and traveling the globe. She missed her picturesque childhood, but it was time to grow up, whether she wanted to or not. The only thing she hadn’t found along the way was the magical love story she thought she would have when she watched the costumed actors waltz around the dreamscape as a young girl. What she considered the last card in the grown-up deck. She had relationships over the years, but nothing that swept her off her feet the way she thought would happen. No one had promised her mornings of gold or Valentine evenings like the song said, but she was hopeful that might change, sooner or later.

Once Sarah shattered the walls of the fancy ballroom, ending the pretty scene, Bob reached over to grab the remote from the coffee table and paused the movie. Phoenix didn’t move other than to pick up her head and look at him questioningly.

“Phee. The movie is weird. But that song is beautiful. I can see why you like it. It’s sort of sad too.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “It really is. And this scene has always been magical but also sad for me. Romantic and whimsical. Sarah’s caught between being a child and a woman and all the things she thinks she wants but also the things she doesn’t realize yet she will miss about being a kid. I relate to the song and the themes of the movie.”

“You do?” He questioned.

“Sure. I had a normal, happy childhood, but like most kids, I couldn’t wait to grow up. I wanted the adventure, the freedom, the uh” she hesitated, lowering her eyes to his chest, “um, love, found only in the grown-up world. Now though, I wish I could go back sometimes. I love my life, but I miss the, um, innocence of being a kid. The tough stuff like top secret scary missions didn’t exist yet.” She nudged him with a knowing look, and he grinned.

“Good at kid’s card games and carrying philosophical conversation about children’s movies to boot. You’re not as scary as people think you are.” He mused.

She snickered and lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “Yes I am.”

Bob grunted on impact, then blew out a heavy breath. “Fine. You’re not as scary as I thought you were. You’re just a big softy.” And he winked at her.

Another bang of thunder rolled through the skies above and they both jumped.

“We better finish this before the power goes out.” She said and he mumbled his agreement, pressing play on the remote again.

The storm began to clear out as the movie came to an end. Phoenix stood and stretched her arms over head while Bob turned the TV off.

“Final verdict?” She asked when he stood up next to her.

“I still say weird, but Bowie’s music is brilliant and it’s definitely a unique way of portraying the transition from child to getting older. 4 out of 5 stars.”

She smiled at him adoringly before patting his cheek and heading for the entry way.

“I’m glad you liked it. I think our friendship would be over if you hadn’t.” she said with a laugh as she scooped up her backpack from the floor and started rummaging for her keys.

“Nat?” she turned to face Bob while shimmying into her sneakers.

He seemed nervous, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Were you planning to go to Captain Holloways wedding next weekend?”

That wasn’t what she was expecting. They both received invitations, but they hadn’t really talked about it.

“I don’t know, you?”

“Well. I was thinking.” He ran his right hand through his hair, stalling. “That is. Do you want to go with me?” He rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels like a rocking horse, his shoulders all the way to his ears as he waited for her to respond.

“Oh! Why Robert Floyd, are you asking me to be your date?” She crossed her arms with a questioning smirk on her face.

His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Well, ah, Yeah, I guess I am. But” he put both hands up defensively and his words rushed out. “I get it if you don’t want to go. Or go with me. We can just meet up there if you want. Or do something else? Shoot. I bet you already have a date. Or I don’t have to go at all if you want to go with someone else or go alone. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been presumptuous. You know what? Let’s just forget I asked.” And he let out a nervous chuckle.

Phoenix had not changed body or face position through his little freak out. She found him absolutely adorable when he was nervous. Inside a plane he was steady as the driving rain outside, but on the ground, he was shy, and it was endearing.

“Bob” she said, then she took the three steps across the entry way to stand in front of him. Phoenix placed her hands on his biceps, rose up on her tippy toes, and lightly pecked him on the cheek. “I’d love to be your date for the wedding. Pick me up at 6?” Then she gave him a brilliant smile.

Relief washed over his face. This sweet man was really starting to create warm feelings in her that she wasn’t expecting but didn’t hate.

“Oh, ok. Great. I’ll pick you up at 6 then. You be careful out there going home, ok?” She removed her hands from his arms then slid them around his midsection to hug him. He wrapped his long lanky arms around her and gave her a light squeeze over her backpack.

“I will. See you tomorrow.” And with one last sweet smile she grabbed her umbrella from the porch, popped it open, and darted out into the muggy drizzle, an extra bounce to her steps as she made a beeline for her car.

Several days later, after a busy week at work, Phoenix was staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. It had been a long time since she had attended a wedding, or any sort of formal event, that wasn’t for the military and didn’t involve her dress uniform. The ceremony was going to be outside overlooking a vineyard, the reception in an open-air barn, and it was quite warm for May in southern California. Many of her coworkers would be in attendance, including her very special date, so she knew she was never going to hear the end of it when they caught sight of her in something other than a flight suit for once.

She spent the afternoon before at a local department store trying on dresses. She honestly didn’t even own an appropriate dress for an evening summer wedding. The few dresses she owned were tiny, black, and were rarely donned. She must have tried on at least 25 dresses, looking for the right one. If she was honest with herself, she was a little nervous. Yes, she and Bob had been friends for a while now, but this felt different. It was different. The little butterflies in her stomach told her things were changing and that thought both scared her and thrilled her. He was so different from anyone she had ever been with before. His strength wasn’t in his brawn or bravado, it was in his quiet determination, unyielding devotion, and his rarely shared dry wit. He was handsome in an old Hollywood sort of way, and he never tried to make her feel small, obviously not scared of a female leader. She could admit that their friendship was based, at first, on trauma bonding but had since evolved into something she trusted. She just hoped he felt the same way. He did ask her out after all, so surely, he felt the shift in their relationship too.

The dress she settled on was a pale pink satin draped dress with spaghetti straps. She purchased a simple shawl in an even softer pink shade and nude kitten heels to go with it. Her hair was always up in the regulation bun so tonight she put a little curl in it and left it down, her grandmother’s pearl earrings completing the ensemble. Natasha ran her hands over the smooth fabric as she studied herself in the mirror. She felt one hundred percent confident until it came to her feminine side. She loved being a woman and pretty things, but she was more prepared to fly an F/A-18 in drab green flight suits and kick back for beers with the guys after work than step out for a night on the town in a slinky pink dress. Just as she was preparing to talk herself out of going, she heard a knock at her front door.

Shit. Bobs here. Too late now.

Giving herself one more glance in the mirror, she hesitantly tucked a small strand of hair behind her ear, placed her phone in her small clutch, and headed for the door. With one last deep breath, she opened the door and watched the pool-blue eyes on the other side grow exponentially in a matter of seconds.

Phoenix watched Bob swallow hard and begin to stammer but bless the man no actual words came out at first. She managed a small smile at him and his large grin in return made her heart flutter.

He cleared his throat then tried again. “Wow, uh Phee, you look, um, just wow.” His cheeks were bright red.

Bob looked incredibly attractive in a tailored three-piece grey suit with a white shirt and a striped tie in darker shades of blue. Phoenix felt a little flustered as well, not just from Bobs reaction but her own attraction to the handsome WSO in front of her. She stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind her, then turned back to Bob’s still wide eyes. With a small giggle she pecked his cheek.

“You’re pretty wow yourself. Ready to go?”

Bob shook his head, seeming to clear fog from his mind, letting out a small chuckle as he offered his elbow for Phoenix to take. “Yes mam.” And they took off for the evening.

The ceremony was nothing short of spectacular. The sunset showed gorgeous hues of purple and orange as the couple said their vows and exchanged rings. Somewhere in the middle of the captains’ vows while he spoke of feeling whole and complete by his soon to be wife, Bobs hand slid over and picked up Phoenix hand, wrapping his fingers between hers and moving it until both of their hands came to rest on his leg, his eyes remaining transfixed on the alter ahead. Phoenix tensed briefly, her eyes shifting sideways then quickly to their joined hands and finally back to the service. Was she sweating? Between the heavy emotions of the wedding, the story book surroundings, and Bobs large, calloused hand gripping hers, Phoenix skin was prickling warm, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Once the groom kissed his bride and the procession was completed, the guests made their way to the outdoor barn for the cocktail hour and reception. Bobs hand slipped to Phoenix lower back as he gently guided her along the brick path toward the glowing string lights twinkling above the tables of the party area. Soft music played from the DJ stand as they gathered drinks from the bar and made their way to the seats at a round table labeled with their names on dainty gold embossed cards. Before she could say or do anything, Bob pulled her chair out for her with a gentle grin. Phoenix returned the smile and thanked him as she took her seat amongst some fellow aviators from various squadrons at Lemoore and their dates.

Once seated, Bob leaned over and whispered low in her ear “Thank you for coming with me. You’re so beautiful Phee. I’m honored to have the prettiest date here.”

Phoenix turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his glowing blue orbs, and the butterflies in her tummy began to dance all at once. She could feel warmth creeping up her cheeks. He was too sweet for words, and she knew she was falling hard.

“Thank you for asking me. I’m having a wonderful time. And you’re not too bad yourself.” She said as she reached up to straighten his tie.

He smiled at her, a full, toothy smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and she returned the smile wholeheartedly.

All through dinner and the initial formalities such as a toast and first dance, Bob continued to land gentle touches to Phoenix, sending chills along her body even through the warmth of the Southern California evening. At one point he wrapped his arm around the back of her chair and began rubbing tiny circles on her bare arm while he carried an idle conversation about something work related with the pilot sitting next to him. They didn’t speak out loud to each other much, choosing to just relax and enjoy the joyous atmosphere around them as their tablemates came and went. An hour or so into the event, the party really kicked up when the dance floor opened, and the DJ began turning various tunes from slow country to club beats.

Bob and Phoenix decided to find the Bride and Groom to give them their congratulations then mingle amongst their friends and colleagues. Phoenix ended up surrounded by several ladies she knew, some from work and some the spouses or girlfriends of other aviators. The gaggle began praising her looks, asking questions about her dress and shoes. Phoenix was so wrapped up in the conversation, trying not to appear as uncomfortable as she felt, that she didn’t notice her date slip away.

A soft melody began to float through the air, and she recognized the early refrain immediately. It was her song. The one she loved so much from her favorite movie. Phoenix excused herself quickly, turning to search for the person she knew had to be responsible. Standing a few feet away, next to the dance floor, was Bob, his outstretched hand beckoning her to join him. She closed the distance between them and slid her hand into his, allowing him to lead her to the middle of the dance floor.

He spun her slowly under their joined hands then wrapped his empty arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his chest, their joined hands coming to rest over his heart. The movements took her breath away. The whole thing was straight out of her childhood dreams. They swayed to the melody under the twinkling lights and her heart all but burst. Bob pulled her so close that her head came to rest sideways on his chest and she heard his dulcet tones begin to sing the song quietly into her head.

I’ll paint you mornings of gold

I’ll spin you Valentine evenings

Though we’re strangers until now

We’re choosing the path

Between the stars

I’ll leave my love

Between the stars

She looked up at him with surprise. “You learned the words!?”

His soft smile matched the gentle look in his eyes. “I listened to it on repeat for the last three days.”

She didn’t know what to say, this was something straight out of a fairytale. Out of her dreams. He requested her song. He made her imagination come to life. Phoenix knew nothing in her life could ever overwhelm her emotions like this beautiful moment with her Bob. As she began to fight the tears pooling in her eyes, she laid her head back on his chest and continued to sway as the song came to an end. Even after the tune changed to another slow song, they just stood still, holding each other. Phoenix could feel Bobs heart pounding through his chest, and she knew her own heart matched his rushing rhythm.

She barely heard his whisper above the sounds of the party around her. “Wanna get out of here?”

Not trusting her voice as she still fought back tears, she shook her head in affirmative. His hand still holding hers moved to raise her chin and their eyes met, his looking slightly wet like hers. “Your place?” he asked nervously, his cerulean eyes searching hers.

Phoenix released a small gasp, understanding the implications of his question, then nodded her head yes as she let out a breathy “yes.”

The ride back to her small two-bedroom bungalow was quiet, Bobs old truck rumbling down the road with tender tunes on the radio and his hand holding hers on the gear shift. They didn’t look at each other, nervous tension instead filling the cab. He pulled into her driveway and hurried out of the truck, practically sprinting around to the passenger side to open her door. He offered his hand, and she took it, not ever saying a word as they walked hand in hand up to the small wooden porch. She began to open her small clutch to pull out her keys but his large hand reached up and brushed the back of her hand, stopping her movements.

“Phee” he whispered, and she looked up at him, watching his eyes cloud over. Bobs hands worked their way across the slippery fabric covering her hips and he pulled her in impossibly close. Then their lips met, slowly. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes, blinding her in white light that felt warm and inviting. His lips were smooth and moved hesitantly at first. With her ears ringing she pushed into his lips slightly and he understood her nudge, deepening the kiss assuredly. Phoenix wrapped her arms under his and around his waist as she opened her mouth slightly, allowing him entrance. So many words unspoken poured into their kiss, and the world fell down. Her walls slipped away and she realized all at once that this was the love she had been hoping for.

All at once she broke the kiss, her eyes watching his flutter open confused. She was a little breathless but she gave him a soft smile.

“Stay with me?” she asked, feeling extremely shy and vulnerable.

The almost startled expression his face shown caused her to giggle, but he managed to shake his head yes before she opened the door and led him into her dark house by his hand. Bob barely got the door closed behind him as she walked him through the house to her tiny back bedroom. Once they reached the door, she dropped his hand to enter the room and turn on the bedside lamp. He remained in the doorway, and she looked over her shoulder with a smile at him, dropping her shawl and clutch on the bedside table before she began to remove her earrings. It was like an intimate dance. His eyes were on her as she removed small articles, a show she was putting on just for him. A way of saying thank you for the special night and that she wanted this with him. She hoped she wasn’t coming on too strong to scare him away. If she really admitted the truth to herself, she had wanted Bob in this way for a long time.

Just as she was about to tell him they could just watch a movie if he wanted, she watched him strode into the room, coming to stand behind her. She was just placing the second earring on the bedside table as she felt his hands slide around her waist from behind. Her hands came to rest on his and then her body shuddered when his lips met the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Phee.” He barely said above a whisper. Then he kissed slightly higher, sending a chill straight down her spine when his warm lips met the sensitive skin where her shoulder met her neck. “Look at me.”

She turned in his arms until they were eye to eye, her head craned back to look up at him. Bobs large hand ghosted across her cheek and into her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear. Then that hand cupped the side of her neck, and he pulled her in for another languid kiss. Her skin felt on fire, everywhere. Phoenix had never felt this way before and she couldn’t believe what was happening, but in the best way possible. She broke the kiss with a small pop of their lips and once his eyes were open and on her she all but blurted out “I love you, Bob.”

Embarrassment at her hasty declaration was coloring her cheeks and he let out a chuckle that made her squirm with further mortification. But if Bob noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply guided his other hand to the other side of her neck and smiled the most brilliant smile before returning her words. “I love you Natasha Trace.”

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes again as she found her words again. She felt bold as she stood up straighter and asked, “Stay with me?”

He kissed the tip of her nose then said through a smile “As long as you’ll have me.”

The next few moments were a blur of touching and kissing. Her hands worked the buttons of his vest and undoing his tie while his slid the zipper of her dress down her back. Once the tie and vest were off, she guided the straps of her dress down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. There she stood in nothing but her white strapless bra, a thin white thong, and her heels. She felt exposed and unsure of what to do as his eyes looked down her body then back up, taking her in.

“God Phee, you’re stunning. I’m, uh, I’m.” He hesitated as his eyes met her again. “I’m honored that you trust me like this.”

There was the confidence she loved hidden under the shyness. His appreciation of her was nothing she had ever experienced before, and she suddenly didn’t feel so uncertain anymore. She knew she wanted to share herself with him and in turn, take him in. Her damp eyes remained on his as her hands swiftly worked the buttons of his dress shirt open, practically ripping it off of him. Then her eyes grew wide.

“Robert Floyd, you’ve been keeping a secret.” She rasped with a mischievous look on her face. He began to blush under her scrutiny, and she giggled. Phoenix ran her manicured fingernails down his chiseled abs as she reached for his pant button.

After that, all clothes removed and his glasses discarded by her pearl earrings, they slid slowly onto her bed, a tangling of hands and kisses full of love and admiration. He worshipped her skin with his lips and touches, leaving no spot untouched. Phoenix felt like she was going to melt away, the heat of her body searing with each feather light kiss he left. He worked his way down her body, then back up, her chest now rising and falling quickly with pants of lust. She had never needed someone so much in her life as she needed Robert Floyd at that very moment. While he nibbled on the juncture of her shoulder and neck, she turned her head toward his and whispered into his ear.

“Love me. Please? Make love to me?” she asked with assurance.

Bobs eyes met hers, looking a little surprised at first, then they relaxed, a dazed grin crossing his lips. He lowered his head to kiss her as he moved himself between her legs.

It was slow and burning and passionate and beyond any of her wildest dreams. Their bodies rocked in tandem as he whispered his love onto her lips. He filled her body and spirit with everything they had been feeling for months and she couldn’t pull him close enough to her. They became one. It overwhelmed her, made her feel desperate on a whole new level she didn’t know she could feel.

The feelings overtook her, and she began to whimper as she met the most beautiful sensation she had ever felt before. Hot and freeing. She found what she had been missing. Her new favorite song became the pants of her name on his lips over and over again his own finality was reached.

A mess of hot breath, rapidly rising and falling chests, and wet eyes lay stilling in the hazy lamp light. A single tear escaped her eye, and he caught it with his finger as it ran down her cheek. Bob rolled them over and tucked her small frame into his side as their breath slowed. She felt him gently kiss the top of her head.

“Thank you.” He said through ragged breaths.

She sat up on her elbow and looked at him, trying to convey with her face all the love she felt in that moment.

“No. Thank you. For making my fairytale come true.” They smiled at each other before she moved back to his side, and she realized Bob was the morning of gold she had been waiting for. Her world was no longer falling down, and she drifted off to sleep feeling he had placed the moon within her heart. She wanted to follow a path between the stars with him forever.

#top gun maverick #top gun rocktober #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #bob floyd #natasha trace #top gun fanfiction #top gun #phoenix x bob #bob x phoenix

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connieluvsr · 1 month ago

Text

DUTY CALLS / series / 1

pairing : police officer carlos reyes x paramedic tk strand

genre : 911lone star universe, fluff, angst, smut, more to be added

summary : “A glimpse into Carlos and T.K.’s dangerous lives, balancing the chaos of emergency calls with quiet moments. A series.”

warnings : violence, trauma and medical emergencies, mental issues health, substance abuse, natural disasters, homophobia and discrimination, injuries, profanity, frightening and intense scenes, sexual scenes, sweet moments of carlos and tk lol and HOT CARLOS

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59486755/chapters/151710301

a/n: hi and welcome to a series of daily stuff thats going on in carlos and tk’s lives, like unadded scenes if you prefer, i like to imagine that’s happening on a daily basis, and i absolutely despise that we don’t see them on the field together 99% of the time. hope you enjoy and happy reading!! i’ll be uploading this on my ao3 too, it’s tarlosstape (ik)

______________

911 Call Dispatcher: “911, what’s your emergency?”

Caller (panicked): “There’s a robbery happening right now! It’s at the corner store on Fifth and Maple. They’ve got guns—oh my God, they’re shooting! People are hurt! I—please hurry!”

The storm outside rages, wind howling through the streets as rain pounds relentlessly on the city of Austin. Lightning flashes, casting brief, eerie shadows over the scene. The police scanner crackles as Officer Carlos Reyes listens closely while gripping the steering wheel of his patrol car. He’s already on his way, lights flashing, sirens blaring, the wet roads slick beneath the tires.

“Shots fired. Multiple injured,” the dispatcher confirms over the radio.

Carlos swerves onto Maple Street, skidding slightly as he pulls up in front of the store. His sharp eyes scan the chaos—shattered windows, civilians crouching behind cars for cover, and two masked gunmen, backing out of the store with bags of cash and weapons in hand. One man already lies bleeding on the sidewalk.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. He pulls his gun, stepping out of his vehicle and shouting over the storm, “Austin PD! Drop your weapons!” His voice cuts through the thunder and rain, firm and commanding.

The robbers hesitate for a split second, then one makes a run for it, bolting down the street. The other, more reckless, raises his weapon toward Carlos. Without missing a beat, Carlos fires, hitting the man in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun and crumple to the ground. Carlos sprints forward, kicking the gun aside and cuffing the injured man before calling for backup.

More police vehicles arrive, but Carlos has already started pursuing the second suspect, rain blurring his vision. Just as he rounds a corner, he tackles the man, pinning him to the ground with practiced precision. Sirens wail in the background, backup arriving as Carlos handcuffs the second robber.

Minutes later, as the rain continues to pour, the sound of an ambulance cuts through the storm. T.K., Nancy, and Tommy pull up in their paramedic vehicle, the flashing lights reflecting off the wet streets. The trio quickly exits, medical bags in hand, ready to help the injured.

Carlos, soaked and standing over the now subdued suspects, turns as T.K. strides toward him. For a brief moment, they exchange a glance—a silent nod between them, full of mutual respect and understanding. T.K.’s eyes linger on Carlos just a bit longer, checking in silently, before he gets back to work.

Nancy is already kneeling beside the man on the sidewalk, assessing his gunshot wound, while Tommy coordinates with the other first responders. Despite the storm, they work with practiced efficiency, moving between the injured civilians, checking vitals, and applying pressure to wounds.

As the chaos slowly subsides, Carlos watches the team in action, relieved but focused. T.K. meets his eyes one more time before loading the injured into the ambulance, giving him a small smile despite the tension of the moment. Both know their jobs are far from done.

——————-

An hour later, Carlos stands in the dimly lit Austin police station, dripping from the relentless storm outside. The buzz of fluorescent lights hums overhead, echoing through the busy place as officers hustle between desks, phones ringing and paperwork piling up. Carlos leans against the desk, typing up his report, his soaked uniform sticking to his skin. He wipes a bead of water from his forehead and sighs, exhaustion creeping in.

Just as he finishes entering his statement about the robbery and arrests, a familiar voice calls from behind him. “Reyes,” Detective Ortega steps into view, clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes scanning him. Ortega is seasoned, with graying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a no-nonsense demeanor. She always gets straight to the point.

“Those two you brought in tonight—real pieces of work,” she mutters, sliding into the seat across from him. “We’ve got them booked, but I need you to walk me through what went down. The DA’s gonna want details, and I don’t want any gaps.”

Carlos nods, setting his report aside. “Two suspects—one I managed to detain on the scene, and the other made a run for it, but I caught up to him around the corner. The first guy—took a shot at me. I returned fire, hit him in the shoulder. Called in for backup right after.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “They both had weapons, and there were multiple injuries inside and outside the store. Paramedics team handled the civilians.”

Ortega studies him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then flips through her clipboard. “Ballsy move, engaging them alone in that storm. You know the risks,” she says, her tone almost reprimanding but softening as she continues. “But good work. The one you shot is being patched up at the hospital under guard. The other one… he’s gonna talk. We’re looking at possible connections to a larger string of robberies.”

Carlos leans forward, crossing his arms. “This wasn’t just a random hit?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Not according to what we’re digging up. The guy you tackled—he’s got priors. Armed robbery, assault. But this particular group? They’ve been linked to a couple of heists in the city’s outer limits. We think tonight was them testing the waters, seeing if they could push into downtown. Your call-in might’ve stopped something bigger.”

Carlos nods, absorbing the information. “Glad we got them off the streets before anyone else got hurt.”

Ortega glances up from her notes, giving him a small but approving smile. “You did good tonight, Reyes. You and that paramedic team. The fact that you can keep your head straight in a situation like that…” She trails off, but Carlos knows the unspoken weight behind her words. She respects his instincts, but she’s always cautious when her officers get too close to danger.

He shifts in his seat, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “Thanks, Detective. I just want to make sure we stay ahead of this. If these guys have been pulling jobs outside the city, they’re bound to try again.”

Ortega raises an eyebrow. “Which is why I want you in on the follow-up. I need someone on the ground who knows the streets, knows how these guys operate. You up for it?”

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

She scribbles something down on her clipboard, nodding in approval. “Good. Get yourself dried off, and then go home. You’ve earned it. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning.”

Carlos stands, ready to head out, but before he leaves, Ortega stops him with one last remark, her tone lighter. “And, Reyes… check in with that paramedic of yours. He looked at you like he was gonna have a heart attack when he saw you at the scene.”

Carlos feels a flush rise to his face but manages a smirk. “I’ll check in with him,” he replies, his voice carrying a hint of warmth as he walks away, shaking off the adrenaline of the night.

Carlos: Hey baby, you good?

A moment later, T.K.’s reply buzzes back.

T.K.: im fine, but are you? that was intense. just don’t get shot again pls

Carlos wipes his hair with a towel as he finishes typing a message to T.K., leaning against his locker in the station’s changing room. His fingers fly across the screen.

Carlos : Of course, coming home in a bit. Just gotta change out of these soaked clothes.

He tosses his phone on the couch and starts peeling off his wet uniform. The heavy storm outside has left the air thick and damp, even inside the building. He grabs a dry towel from his bag, running it through his hair and over his skin, before pulling on fresh jeans and a t-shirt. As he fastens his belt, he hears his phone buzz again.

T.K.: good, im waiting with hot tea and something hotter :*

Carlos smile got wider, feeling warmth flood through him. After the night he’s had, the thought of being home with T.K., sitting in the dry comfort of their apartment, is the only thing he’s looking forward to. He tosses the towel in the corner, ready to head out.

But just as he’s about to close his locker, his radio crackles to life.

“Reyes, we need you back in the field.” It’s Ortega, her voice sharp over the line. “There’s been another incident at the same location—deeper than we thought. The storm’s making it worse. Backup’s already on the way, but I need you to roll out.”

Carlos’s stomach drops. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, barely able to believe what he’s hearing. He was just there. The scene had been secured, the suspects apprehended, and the injured civilians taken care of. But now, with the storm intensifying, it sounds like the situation has escalated into something far worse.

He reaches for his radio. “Copy that. I’m on my way.”

The rain beats down hard as Carlos arrives at the scene. The corner store, once just the site of a robbery, now looks like a disaster zone. Water floods the streets, pooling up to his ankles as he steps out of the car. Emergency lights flash through the downpour, illuminating the chaos. The wind howls, bending trees and sending debris flying down the street.

Carlos quickly scans the area. A power line has come down across the road, its live wires sparking dangerously close to the rising water. Civilians are trapped inside nearby buildings, unable to leave with the flooding making the streets impassable. Ortega’s already there, barking orders at a group of officers trying to cordon off the area.

“Carlos!” Ortega shouts as she spots him approaching. “We’ve got a mess. That live wire hits the water, and this whole area could turn into a death trap. We’re evacuating the nearby buildings, but we’re running out of time. The rain’s only getting worse.”

Carlos nods, quickly assessing the situation. He watches as emergency responders scramble to move people out of harm’s way, their boots splashing through the rising flood. The power line swings in the wind, just inches above the water now.

“We need to keep the civilians as far from this as possible,” Ortega continues, her voice barely audible over the storm. “I need you to take that side,” she gestures toward a nearby alley where a group of people are huddled under an awning, trapped by the water on both sides.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. He moves swiftly toward the alley, wading through the water as the rain slashes across his face. The civilians look at him with a mix of fear and desperation, their eyes wide as the storm rages around them.

“Everyone, listen up!” Carlos shouts over the wind. “We’re getting you out of here, but you need to stay calm and follow me.” He motions toward a narrow path that leads away from the main street, where rescue teams are setting up a safer evacuation route.

One by one, he helps the civilians through the flooded alley, guiding them away from the live wires and into the arms of waiting responders. The rain keeps coming, harder now, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning cracks in the distance, casting brief flashes of light over the darkened city.

As the last of the group makes their way out, Carlos glances back toward the power lines. The water’s rising faster than expected, creeping dangerously close to the sparking wire. He radios in quickly. “Ortega, we need that power cut now. It’s about to hit the water.”

“Working on it,” she responds, tension thick in her voice.

Carlos watches, heart pounding, as the line sways in the wind, just inches from the flood. Minutes pass like hours, but finally, the sparks stop, and the line goes dead.

With the civilians evacuated and the power line neutralized, Carlos allows himself a brief moment to breathe. The rain keeps pounding, but at least, for now, they’ve managed to prevent a disaster.

Hours later, the rain has eased, though the city is still reeling from the storm’s impact. Carlos stands at the edge of the scene, drenched and exhausted, watching as the last of the emergency vehicles pull away. The corner store, now eerily quiet, remains a stark reminder of how quickly things can spiral out of control.

Carlos finally makes it home, the rain still drumming against the streets as he steps inside. He’s soaked to the bone, every inch of his body heavy with exhaustion. The quiet of the apartment is a stark contrast to the chaos of the night, but it feels like a different world as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the storm.

The soft glow of a nearby lamp casts a warm light over the living room. T.K. is asleep on the couch, a blanket half-draped over him. His chest rises and falls gently, completely unaware of Carlos’s entrance. The room is peaceful, but a glance around shows signs of waiting: two plates of food on the table, untouched, and a cup of tea sitting beside one of them, long gone cold.

Carlos feels a wave of warmth, despite the cold and wet clinging to him. He quietly shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door, careful not to wake T.K. The sight of him asleep, clearly having waited up, tugs at something deep inside Carlos—part relief, part gratitude. It’s been a hell of a night, and this is exactly where he needs to be.

He moves to the table, noticing the now-cold dinner that had been thoughtfully prepared for him. He presses his lips together, feeling guilty for being so late without any explanation. Still, the effort T.K. put into making sure he’d come home to something comforting doesn’t go unnoticed.

Carlos walks over to the couch, crouching beside T.K. for a moment, watching him sleep. The tension of the night begins to fade as he just breathes in the calmness of the room.

Gently, he places a hand on T.K.’s arm, not wanting to startle him but knowing he should get him to bed.

T.K. stirs slightly, blinking awake. His eyes flutter open, and it takes him a second to register Carlos kneeling next to him. “Hey…” his voice is groggy, still heavy with sleep, but his brow furrows when he sees how soaked Carlos is. “You’re… completely drenched.”

Carlos gives a tired smile. “Yeah, the storm got a lot worse. I’m so so sorry I’m late.” He gestures to the table. “I see you waited up for me.” He whispers softly, kissing his forehead.

T.K. sits up, rubbing his eyes, glancing toward the cold tea and untouched food. “I wanted to make sure you had something to come home to.” He looks Carlos over again, concern creeping into his voice. “But you look like you just swam here.” He adds worried.

Carlos chuckles softly. “Feels like it.”

T.K. moves, standing up and placing a hand on Carlos’s cheek, the warmth of his touch a welcome contrast to the cold that has been biting at him all night. “Come on,” T.K. says quietly, “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into something warm. Don’t worry about the food.”

Carlos nods, his body grateful for the offer. He follows T.K. into the bedroom, where the familiar comfort of home begins to sink in, each step pulling him further from the chaos of the night.

As they enter their bedroom, T.K. helps Carlos out of his wet clothes, carefully peeling off the soaked layers and tossing them into the laundry basket

“You really are drenched,” T.K. comments, running a hand down Carlos’s arm. “You need to get warm. Take a hot shower. Unless you want to catch a cold.”

Carlos smiles, appreciating T.K.’s gentle touch and concern. “A hot shower sounds perfect,” he replies, his voice still heavy with exhaustion. He glances back at T.K., a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You wanna join?” He smiles as he kisses his neck softly.

T.K. shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “I’d love to, but I’m too tired. I’ll just wait for you here.” His eyelids droop slightly, betraying his weariness.

“Okay.” He nods, heading toward the bathroom.

As Carlos steps into the shower, the hot water cascades over him, easing the tension in his muscles. He takes a deep breath, allowing the warmth to wash away the chill from the storm and the stresses of the night. He can hear T.K. moving around in the bedroom, but the sound quickly fades.

After what feels like too long, Carlos finishes up and steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He can still hear the rain outside but feels a sense of calm settling over him. He takes a moment to look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, pushing back the fatigue and ensuring he’s presentable for T.K.

Once dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats and a soft t-shirt, Carlos heads back into the bedroom. He usually just wears boxers, but he feels he should be warmer tonight. The dim light casts a soft glow over the room, and he sees T.K. sitting on the edge of the bed, head tilted back against the wall, eyes barely open.

“Hey,” Carlos says softly, a smile creeping onto his lips at the sight of T.K. trying to fight off sleep.

T.K. stirs at the sound of Carlos’s voice, blinking a few times before forcing a smile. “It’s 1am. we should be up at 9am maximum.”

Carlos chuckles softly, gently nudging T.K.’s knee with his own. “Fuck, I know.” He sighs and wraps his arms around TK, closing his eyes, TK does the same.

“I’m so sorry we barely have time with each other, sometimes I wish I had a boring job.” Carlos adds, kissing his head.

“Don’t worry.” TK whispers as he lets his head fall on Carlos’ shoulder.

“Everyday is the same, we wake up, go to our jobs, maybe if we’re lucky we have the same case on that day, then see each other at night where we don’t even have time to eat.”

With a sigh, TK replies in whisper “Carlos I’m too sleepy to reply to that.”

Carlos chuckles. “I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

——————

a/n: hope you enjoyed ! chapter 2 is already posted!

wc: 3k

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