#Chelsea Fanfiction

[rainbowsuitcase]

So much BTS lore feels like fanfiction and I can't get over it

Two of the members hated each other at first. They argued a lot and one time, they threw folded clothes at each other and the member who folded them had to come scold them. And now they keep reminding everyone how long they've known each other for. They wrote a song together where they said that "respect is a higher tier than love" and then called each other "my respect."

The smartest member of the group (one the previous two morons btw) didn't know how to tie his shoelaces until highschool. He doesn't eat seafood because he loves crabs. He's a literal geniues and he's so clumsy and such a dork (and I relate so deeply). And that body, guys, I'm telling you. This whole guy was made by a fanfic author.

Their company was near bankrupcy when they debuted. One of the members, who was getting offers from so many other companies, joined this one because he admired another member who was already a part of it. When these two met for the first time, member two was only wearing underwear and member one said "wow, thighs."

Another member came to an audition, not to audition himself but to support a friend. He was the only person from that audition round to get in. The friend did not.

Another member, who was studying to be an actor, was street cast on a bus.

One of them lost confidence and tried to leave before the debut, but another convinced him to come back, because they "needed him."

The whole industry hated them when they debuted and now they're arguably the best kpop group worldwide. (Arguably, read: argue with the wall)

(Add your own pls, I want to make a collection from this)

[chelseasdagger]

Teacher - Chapter III

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank invites you to hang out with him at a bar on the outskirts of town. After some good food, and lots of teasing, you get invited back to his place to take care of the problem you caused him.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of drinking and smoking, cursing, grinding, detailed handjob sorry, slight praise kink

Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out!! I had a lot of life issues that delayed this, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so please accept this super long chapter as my apology/holiday gift!! And if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know. As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 9k

Previous Chapters: I, II

“So I was thinkin’… Said you didn’t get many experiences even after high school, right?” Frank asks. His voice slightly muffled through the phone, which is wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you drag the spatula over the food you’re cooking on the stove. He had randomly rang you out of the blue and, after attempting to control your breathing, you answered the call. This was what he chose to greet you with and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confused by the topic of conversation.

“Good morning to you too,” you tease, the food sizzling as you flip it in the pan. “But no, I haven’t. Why? What’s up?” you question.

“There’s this bar on the edge of town,” he begins his offer. “Little bit of a drive but they got good food,” he explains. 

“Tempting…” you trail off, trying not to immediately agree just because it’s Frank. “Who all is coming?”

“Just me,” he replies. “That alright?”

“Yeah!” Your answer is too loud and far too fast to be playing it cool. After cursing yourself mentally, you try again. “Yeah, I was just wondering if it was a whole… get-together thing.” Your voice grows quiet at the end, not wanting to plant the idea in his head that you’d prefer it if there were more people.

Honestly, you were surprised he was reaching out this soon after the bonfire. It was one of the best nights of your life. Whenever you think about it, there’s this warmth that rushes through you; you’re not sure if the heat was from the big flames or his strong chest you laid against all night.

“Nah, just me. Just thought it would be somethin’ you might like,” you push the spatula around in the teflon pan as he speaks. “Plus it’s another thing off the list, right?”

“Yeah, it is! Thanks, Frank,” you say cheerily as you turn the burner off and open the cupboards to grab two plates.

“No problem, kid. Just thought about you, y’know?” You sink your teeth in your lower lip to calm yourself down before another thought comes to mind.

“Oh! When are we going?”

“Tonight,” he answers nonchalantly and your eyes grow wide. “If you’re free.”

You seriously weren’t expecting him to want to see you only two days since you two were last together. In your head, Frank is so calm and collected and you’re practically certain that this… thing you two have going on isn’t as big of a deal to him as it is to you. Still, you try not to question too much why he actually seems to enjoy having you around. Instead, you decide to just take the good as it comes.

“I am, I can do tonight. But I’m not sure I have something to wear. Is it like a club? Should I dress up or is it more jeans and—?” You don’t even realize when your voice picks up in speed and the questions fly out faster than you intend for them to, but Frank is quick to center you out of the beginning of your spiral.

“Just wear somethin’ cute, alright? I’ve seen some of your outfits, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.” You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment and inhale deeply before sighing. “I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” You hum an agreement as he confirms the time and say a goodbye before hanging up.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, you see an incoming text from your best friend drop down from the top of the screen.

“I’m two minutes away! I can’t wait to hear everything.”

That night when you got home from the bonfire, she had sent many texts in hopes of finding out the reasoning behind the newfound closeness between you and Frank. In your exhausted and slightly inebriated state, you told her that you would have her over Saturday morning to explain it all to her. You were much too tired to string the words together and you also know how she can tend to put her own emotions onto words; the last thing you needed was for her to hear the little arrangement you and Frank have and blow it out of proportion.

You set the table as you wait for her, making sure to leave a mug beside her plate for her tea that tends to be the staple of her breakfast. By the time the food is divvied up for each of you, there’s an impatient knock at the door. You shake your head with a smile as you open the door and she’s pushing past you as the questions immediately begin to roll off her tongue.

After guiding her to the small dining table in the kitchen, you watch her sit down and her eyes never stray from you. Her voice continues to fill the air as she talks over herself; there’s no distinct end to one sentence and the beginning of the next. By the time you’re sitting beside her and about to dig into your meal she finally covers her mouth, stopping all the enthusiastic queries she desperately wants to know.

“I’m gonna let you talk,” she mumbles behind her palms. You laugh at her attempts to force herself to be quiet and pick up a forkful of your food.

“I promise you it’s not as exciting as you think it is,” you warn her before popping the food in your mouth.

You start at the beginning—trying to skim over the details of your not-so-controlled crush on Frank as well as the more heated parts of the things you two have done together. Excited gasps fill the space surrounding the dining table and you watch as her eyes go wide when you mention it was his idea. Her mouth gets the better of her though and she begins to ask more questions while you speak. You make sure to answer all of them in time, save for a few chuckles here and there, before finishing your last bite.

“I actually have a question for you now,” you start again, watching as confusion washes over her features. “Frank called me this morning and he wants to take me out to this bar he likes. I just don’t know what to wear and I was hoping… you could help me?” You hesitantly look up to face her and you’re met with a beaming grin.

“Is this a date?! Is this the first one? Are you going back to his place after?” You shake your head once again as the sudden influx of questions fill the air.

“No, it’s not a date. I mean… I don’t think it is?” you let your thought process be shown aloud and watch as her giddy expression comes back to the surface. “It’s not! We’re just friends and he’s doing me a favor. I’m sure of it.” You decide then and there that you can’t afford to hold out hope and expect more than what he’s given you—which is already so much.

She raises her eyebrows up from behind the rim of her mug and you scoff at her knowing look. You brush your hand through your hair and try your hardest to not let your anxiety creep in about the idea of being on a proper date with Frank Castle.

And so together the two of you spend the afternoon diving through your closet together for something that could fit. It felt similar to a movie montage where the teenage girls toss different colorful fabrics through the air. With a growing pile on the floor of your bedroom, she gasps once you stand in the completed outfit.

“That’s the one!” she says excitedly before tugging you towards the bathroom. “Time for makeup!” She eagerly pats for you to sit on the counter while searching through your, admittedly limited, makeup bag. Doing the best with what she’s got, she gets to work on the eyeshadows and blush, finishing up with a curl of your eyelashes and combing mascara through them. You always loved how focused she got when it was time for something special; her tongue pokes past her lips as she concentrates, her eyes squinting to get the very last detail to sit right.

Once she’s satisfied, she spins you around to see yourself in the mirror and you’re actually surprised at how nice it all came together. You’re wearing an oversized, comfy jumper, tights that line your legs, and a black skirt that accentuates your frame. It’s not too fancy, but the black tights make your outfit more sleek and you silently hope that Frank will like it. As you fluff your hair up to give it some more volume, you thank her behind a wide smile.

A buzz of excitement rushes through you as you wait by the front door and hear the heavy revving from the engine of Frank’s van. You physically shake your arms in an attempt to let go of some of the nerves that built up and your friend gives you a quick hug.

“You got it, baby!” she encourages sweetly. “Have fun!” she calls out as you slip past the door. Making your way down your porch steps, you hear her shout something else from behind you. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

You chuckle at her warnings and make your way to the big, black van. You open the door and find Frank sitting with his elbow on his armrest and his head in his palm as he turns to face you. You stand there for a moment and await his initial reaction to your outfit. His eyes widen slightly before they rake over your boy, his lips parting as he takes it all in.

He brushes his thumb along the defined line of his jaw before sinking his teeth into his lower lip. His eyes settle on the small slit of the skirt that rests high on your thigh. There’s a pause for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“Told you you’d find somethin’ cute.” He fixes his posture and gives you a smile as you roll your eyes and sit in the passenger seat. Being with him felt easy now—of course there’s still the butterflies, which you’re expecting to make a permanent home in your stomach any day now, but it’s mostly when you’re about to see him. When you’re actually in his presence, it all fades away and you love how comfortable he makes you feel.

If you had told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d be on a half hour car ride with Frank Castle to the outskirts of town, she probably would’ve brushed it off as some sick joke. But here you are, sitting beside him and watching as he flips through radio stations until he settles on a classic rock song. You enjoyed getting to discover little pieces of him the more time you spent with him.

As he drives under the lamp posts longing the winding roads, you watch as the passing lights illuminate his face before it’s cloaked in shadows of the night once again. Each time you move underneath them, light showcases his features in a warm glow for mere moments at a time. You think your new favorite thing might be when the gleam seeps into the small dip in the bridge of his nose. That small highlight makes you smile and he catches it as he turns to look at you once you’re stopped at a red light.

“What is it?” he questions, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks at you. With a shake of your head, you face back to the light strung up in the air. His gaze doesn’t leave the side of your face though, and you know he’ll want an answer.

“This is just nice,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you for thinking of me,” you add. You want to make sure he knew how happy you were to be doing this, despite your quiet nature due to your fear of somehow screwing this up with your words.

“Haven’t even done anything,” he laughs softly.

“Well, I’m still enjoying myself,” you reply in a gentle tone. Frank doesn’t say anything more as he continues to look at you. The light changes and a green glow washes over your face, queuing him to face the open road once again. You glance down as his hand moves to the gear shift, trying not to focus too long on how the veins in his hand are accentuated as he curls his fingers around the knob.

Frank speaks up again after a moment and you quickly recenter your attention. He engages you in some light conversation and pretty soon you’re laughing along to his comedic storytelling. You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until he’s put the car in park and turns the key off in the ignition. Looking out from behind the glass in front of you, you see the neon lights surrounding the big, bold letters of the name of the bar. It shines brightly in the night sky and acts as a small beacon in the dark parking lot.

You look up at the sound of the driver side door closing and realize Frank has left the car. You reach for your bag that’s resting on the floor between your feet and by the time you move for the handle, he’s opening your door for you. It’s the first time you’re able to truly take him in. He’s wearing a pair of nicely fitting blue jeans and a grey jacket, complete with the black boots you’ve never seen him without. You can’t tell what he’s wearing under the thick material that conceals his chest though, and you find yourself hoping it’s something tighter and hugs his torso.

“You ready?” he asks, and you nod in response. “Alright, watch your step,” he warns and you feel his hand bracing your upper arm as you hop out from the slightly lifted van. Once you’re secure on the ground, the two of you begin making your way towards the entrance. As you pass by the cars parked in organized rows under dim lamplights, you begin to make out the few scattered people smoking and even spot a couple sharing a cigarette just outside the main doors.

Once inside the building, he shrugs off the jacket and you can finally piece together his outfit. Frank’s broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the dark blue button up shirt. It’s tucked into his denim pants and secured with a black belt. He fits the attire of everyone else here in the bar, but still stands over a head taller than the rest—not to mention infinitely more attractive. You try desperately to rip your eyes away from him, and in doing so, take in the scenery of the pub.

The bar is crowded but not so occupied that you can’t move. The loud, overlapping voices meld to create a soft droning that accompanies the background. It doesn’t stand a chance to the band though, whose loud amplifiers cause a shake in your chest with each note they strum. Polished wood lines the walls and there’s photographs of smiling people decorating them, forever cherished behind glass frames. It feels oddly homey, admittedly impressive for a place you’ve never stepped foot into before tonight.

You accidentally bump into Frank and he steadies you with his large hands on your waist. He’s staring down at you with a subtle smile on his face. He begins to talk but you don’t have the slightest clue what he’s saying; the song that’s playing is far too loud to hear the lower tone of his voice. Shaking your head with a frown, you let him know you can’t understand him and his smile grows wider. He then leans down, his fingers brushing your hair away from your ear before he speaks.

“Asked if you wanted to eat,” he starts, his breath immediately warming the side of your neck. With just those few words, it feels like all the other noise falls away. All you can focus on is the rumble in his voice and how the words feel as if they dance down your spine. “I’m starving,” he adds, and you’re certain your new headspace gave his words a different context than he intended.

He pulls away for your response and all you can muster up is a slow blink and a delayed nod. There’s no cocky smirk at your expression and you wonder if maybe he decided to spare you the embarrassment this time. He promptly turns and you fall in line beside him, letting him guide you around the crowd. His palm finds its way to your lower back as he leads you and just like that, your heart picks up in pace once more.

You’ve only seen the same small movement depicted in movies and you can now safely say that experiencing it is so much more exhilarating. Part of you is frustrated that such an insignificant touch can make you this excited, but Frank’s charm has a tremendous effect on you. Still, you tell yourself it’s the anticipation of his hand being elsewhere on your body that riles you up.

His hand stays put until the two of you reach a booth lining the back wall. There’s a small lamp that bathes the whole table in a warm glow and you and Frank place your things down before sliding into the long seats. As you stare at him from across the table, you watch as his eyes scan the crowd and then the main stage as he focuses on the band. They’re currently playing a cover of a classic rock song and Frank smiles as he nods his head to the music.

“This place is nice,” you raise your voice slightly to be heard over the music. He turns to face you and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah? You like it?” His question is accompanied by your own nod and he continues. “I’m sure there’s fancier ones close to town, but I’ve been coming here for years and they’ve always been good.”

He raises his hand in the air, tilting his head up and leaning to the side as if to catch someone’s attention. You follow his line of sight and look over your shoulder to see a woman with a black apron tied around her waist. She looks slightly past you as a grin covers her face and walks over to your table quicker than you expected.

“Frank?! What are you doing here?” Her voice is already grating and she’s only said a handful of words. Her tone is drawn out, almost flirtatiously, and she stands closer to him than you would’ve liked.

“Just showing her around,” he answers simply. He looks at you and when the waitress does the same, her face falls. You muster up an awkward smile and try to shake off the weird look she gives you. “She’s never been here before, you think we could get some menus?”

“Sure thing,” she mumbles, stepping away only to return a moment later with two long, laminated sheets of paper. She drops them to the table and you spare yourself the trouble of looking at her again.

“She sure seems to like you,” you speak up once she’s left. Frank scoffs before grabbing a menu and shaking his head. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What did I do?” You ask with a frown, wondering if you did something unintentionally.

“She’s probably just pissed cause you’re sitting with me and she’s not,” he answers with a sigh. He flips the paper around and you notice the way his eyes dart around the page. His answer wasn’t very reassuring though, and you still feel the tension in your body. As you scan the small print of the menu in your hands, you can feel his gaze on you. You try to shake the disappointment and to make it less obvious that what she said affected you, but you’re not certain how good of an actress you are.

“Y’know what?” he speaks up after a few seconds. You raise your face to him as he continues, “I know this place a couple of blocks down? Best god damn beer I’ve had.” His hand disappears under the table and a moment later you see his fingers curled around his jacket. “It’s German! You haven’t tried that one before.” He leans across the table before whispering, “You’re gonna hate it.”

His attempts at distracting you work well and you can’t help the laughter escaping you at the final thing he said. Frank’s own crooked smile returns at your reaction and a softness settles into his brown eyes.

“There she is,” he mumbles once he sees your regular self bubble back up to the surface. You bring in a deep breath and choose to shake off any residual awkwardness you felt from before.

“No, no it’s okay. We can stay here.” You finish your sentence and look back towards the music before facing him. His hands are empty now as he continues to stare at you and you feel confident in your choice to stay.

After looking over the endless list of drinks, burgers, and other appetizers, you read a description of a sandwich that makes your stomach rumble to life. You immediately decide on it without a second thought and smile up at Frank, watching him run his finger across the page between two options and looking quite indecisive.

Before long, the ill behaved waitress is back to take down your order. You pick your sandwich, remembering to take off the toppings you aren’t too fond of, add in an order of fries, and your usual favorite drink to top it off. With a hesitant glance up, you see her scribbling down your order on the small notepad in her hand. Her expression is twisted up as if she smelled something foul and you feel that uneasy feeling settling in once more.

“I’ll have the same as my date here,” Frank answers before she can ask about his meal. He gently taps the two menus on the tabletop before handing them over to her. His lips part as his eyes drag over your features and you notice the way they stop for a little longer than they should when they reach your mouth.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he said it just to get under her skin or not but part of you didn’t really care. He said it regardless and that made a smile carve its way onto your face. An annoyed scoff is heard from above and you see a hand come into view to snatch the menus away from Frank. He never looked away from you once.

The moment the food arrives, you’re excitedly grabbing your sandwich and lifting it to your mouth. As your teeth sink into the toasted bread, the flavor hits your tongue and a satisfied moan escapes you. Frank is quick to lift his eyes at the sound, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene in front of him. You raise your hand to your mouth and begin to grow bashful at the look on his face.

“Sorry!” You apologize, your voice muffled behind your palm. “It was just really good,” you explain once you swallow your food down.

“Don’t gotta apologize for that, kid,” he replies through his own raspy chuckle. You bite your lip and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before reaching for the fries in your basket next.

The two of you dig into your identical meals and make some easy conversation in between bites here and there. You’re honestly impressed with how good the sandwich is and you’re glad you picked it out of the infinite number of items on the menu. Frank wasn’t lying when he said he loved this place. You watch him look up from his meal every now and then with a big smile on his face as he moves his head to the beat of the music. His energy was infectious and you found yourself tapping your toes along too. 

“Y’know,” he speaks up after finishing the last bite of his sandwich. At the sound of his voice, you begin to look up to his face, but your eyes latch on to something else. Frank sucks his fingers clean of the salt from his fries, his lips pursing as his cheeks hollow, and you immediately lose any grip you had on controlling your thoughts around him.

“When we ordered I saw your beer on the menu.” You hear his words but they have absolutely no meaning, no way of stringing them together to make a continuous thought as you watch him suck the seasonings from his thumb. You begin to feel a sense of injustice at the fact that those fingers weren’t where you desperately wanted them to be. With a pout, you look back to his gaze and see the confusion clear in his eyes.

“What?” you blurt out, finally remembering he had spoken and that you hadn’t processed anything he had said. He scoffs before shaking his head, his smirk spreading wide across his face before he speaks again.

“Said they have the beer you like here,” he repeats himself, his cocky grin a clear indicator that he saw how you froze up at sight just moments ago.

“I’m actually good tonight,” you say confidently. Reaching for your glass, you take a sip of your drink and hold his gaze as you stare at him from under your eyelashes. He sits back against the cushion of the booth and his eyebrows pull together as he thinks about what you said.

“Yeah?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Mhm, not letting a few beers stop me from what I wanna do after this,” you explain. You’ve never felt more frustrated than when he stopped you from kissing on his neck. You understood why he did it, and are actually very thankful he didn’t want it to go further, but the disappointment coursed through you all the same.

“Hmm? And what exactly is that?” he questions as the band finishes up the song they had been playing. Your eyes follow the noise as the crowd erupts into whistles and claps, applauding the musicians. When you finally look back over, Frank’s in the same position. It’s like he never looked away from you—hell, you’re not sure if he even blinked.

You don’t answer him though and make up your mind to keep him on the edge of his seat. Instead, you smile sweetly before picking up a fry from your basket and popping it past your lips. 

He gives you a knowing look, but doesn’t pry. Perhaps he was looking forward to the surprise of it all. You only hope you can remain as confident as you feel now so you can properly act out your plan. Before long, he swallows down his last french fry and Frank speaks up with a question.

“You wanna go dance?” Your whole body freezes at the mere thought of attempting to dance, not to mention the added nerves of doing it in a crowded room with Frank Castle standing witness. But as you look out onto the dance floor full of moving bodies, you realize most of them are probably far too intoxicated to really pay attention to you. Deciding to push past the initial fear, and wanting to be fully present with him and have fun, you nod and scoot out of the booth.

Frank stands in front of you and his hand soon comes into view of your eyeline. You place your hand in his and feel his fingers curl around your palm as you brace your weight on him and rise to your feet. You stand on your toes and motion for him to come closer so you can speak into his ear.

“Just so you know, I’m a terrible dancer,” you say after he’s tilted his head towards you.

“What part of me screams that I’m a good one?” he asks, and you chuckle at his joke. He smiles down at your laughter and nods his head behind him, letting you know he’s going to the dancefloor.

Frank keeps a hold of your hand as he leads you through the crowd. His broad body splits the sea of bodies as he walks and you follow close enough behind him to squeeze past them as well. There’s blue hues from the dim lights that shine over the people, but other than that you can’t see much beside their moving feet. He must’ve gotten to a clearing where there’s not as many people bumping into one another, because he stops walking and turns to you.

You’re sort of frozen still for a moment as the reality of it is beginning to creep in. But then Frank starts to shimmy his shoulders and you can’t help but break into a wide grin. Just like that, you’re thawed. The awkwardness you felt is starting to leave you as you begin to loosen up in front of him.

The band plays a fun, upbeat song that you don’t recognize, but he seems to be making the moves up as he goes along. You follow his direction, copying him but still keep some distance, trying to slowly shake off those nerves that are still lingering around. Suddenly, Frank does a move that you can’t even begin to describe with words alone and you burst into laughter as you watch him. Holding your stomach, you shake your head at him and he begins to laugh too. 

The band then retires from the stage, saying their farewells as the crowd applauds and whistles. Frank claps along with the rest of them and you cup your hands around your mouth to give a small cheer. You really enjoyed their set and wouldn’t mind coming back here again to watch them play once more.

Once the stage is clear, music begins to play over the speakers and Frank’s face lights up. His excitement is clear after just the first few notes.

“God, this takes me back,” his wide grin causes his eyes to squint up. You smile up at him, happy at his enjoyment, but you can’t help your head from tilting to the side confusedly.

“You haven’t heard this before?” he asks incredulously and you shake your head. “It’s literally my favorite song, how do you not know this?”

“When did it come out?” you ask, and watch him look up as he starts to think.

“Must’ve been… right after graduation, I think?” He does the math for a moment longer before answering with the year it was released. The answer has you fighting back a giggle as you stare at him awkwardly.

“Frank, I wasn’t born until two years later,” you answer honestly, and the look on his face is priceless.

“Jesus Christ…” he replies, dragging his hand down his face. You begin to worry now, wondering if you shouldn’t have brought up that point. He must’ve caught a glance at your anxious frown because he’s quick to explain himself.

“You’re fine just… my back hurt when you said that.” His hand comes to the back of his neck to emphasize his point and your smile finds its way back to your lips.

Despite the initial embarrassment you ran into after being reminded again of the gap in age between you and Frank, you found yourself really enjoying the song. He was honest when he said it was one of his favorites. You’ve never seen him this lively before and you love being able to soak up every minute of it. He’s so animated as he dances, holding you close to him with his hand secured at your back. The lines to the song fall past his lips like muscle memory as his forehead presses to yours.

You can’t stand being this close to him. Your whole body feels like it’s been shot with a current of electricity and you’re desperately wanting him to stop singing and put his mouth to yours. He might have a sixth sense—or simply just picked up on the timing—because his lips are on yours a second later. He kisses you deeply, his tongue brushing your lower lip for a moment before you eagerly let him in. Your head tilts to the side as you kiss him back and your arm wraps around his wide shoulders to ensure you’ll have your fill.

All too soon he’s breaking the kiss and you immediately suck your bottom lip behind your teeth to savor the feeling of him. He suddenly lifts his arm into the air and cues you to spin. You twirl under his hand with a huge grin and then he yanks you in for the finish, timing it so that your back is to his chest when you land against him. His same palm immediately finds your hip and tightens to keep you flush to him. His opposite hand travels down the length of your torso, his index finger tracing your side as he moves.

He begins to whisper the lyrics against your ear and you can’t bring yourself to focus on their meaning. He’s all over you and it’s making you feel dizzy, as if you’re drunk on his scent alone. Each pass of his finger along your ribs alights a fire at your side and you try to keep up as he begins rocking you from side to side to the rhythm of the song. His breath warms the entire side of your face and neck with each word he whispers. You fall under his spell and roll your head to the side at the feeling of his warmth all over.

When the song starts to fade and a new one begins overlapping it, you’re left with a bittersweet feeling; part of you never wanted to leave that moment and would gladly listen to that song on loop for the rest of your life, but the other half of you was almost frightened at how easily you turned to putty in his hands. You felt the need to have a better grasp on yourself, especially if you wanted to stay courageous for what you had planned for tonight.

The mix of two songs smoothen down into one and you instantly recognize the slow, sexy bassline that’s pumping through the speakers overhead. You’re not sure what came over you. Perhaps you wanted to prove to someone that you’re not that same timid, little girl. Whatever it was that coursed through your veins, you’re thankful that it gave you the strength to grab his large palm and put it back into place at your hip. You use the extra support to push your ass back into him, making sure to press hard enough until you feel the bulge in his jeans.

Frank doesn’t show any reaction except for his fingers tightening into your skin as if you were a lifeline. You smile as you continue to grind into him, your hips following the similar movements he taught you just a few days prior. Facing away from him gives you the extra boost of confidence needed to perform this act, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t kill to see the look on his face right now.

With each push of your ass against the denim fabric, you feel the heat of his bulge so close to where your own warmth had started to pool. This felt good and you felt pride surging through your chest once you realized exactly what you were doing.

And then his arm crosses your chest and pulls you flat against him once more. His forearm is pressed against your collarbones and you feel your breath hitch at the hold he has you in. With a shaky inhale, you swallow down the lump in your throat and wait for him to speak.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” the tip of his nose brushes the curve of your ear and you try your damndest to not let your body double over. “Someone’s getting confident, huh?” His arm begins to slowly drop from across your chest, and instead reaches your lower stomach. From there, he applies pressure until you’re as close as you could be to him.

“You feel that? Hmm?” There’s an undeniable hardness under the thick layers of fabric. It doesn't feel as big as the last time he got turned on from you, but it’s still noticeable. “That’s all you,” he finishes with a lower tone of voice before taking half a step back and leaving you to sit with his words.

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around this entire situation. It’s abundantly clear that the mood has changed from light laughter and awful dance moves to something more sultry. You can feel the warmth slowly spreading between your legs and it leaves you with a buzz that makes you feel like your movements are slowed. When you turn around to finally face him, he’s already staring down at you expectedly.

“Why don’t we get outta here?” he asks, deep voice blending in with the booming bass. You nod at him and it feels like you’re moving in molasses. The dull, blue light from above catches his face for a moment. There’s something deeper to his unreadable expression; his jaw is clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back.

Once the two of you make it back to the table, Frank reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbs through the notes before tossing a few bills onto the table. He reaches into the booth seat for his jacket and shakes it out before draping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you mumble in a quiet voice.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, insisting that your gratitude isn’t needed. He begins to walk towards the door with his hand in its designated spot at your lower back to help guide you once again. The chill of the night air hits you the second you step out of the building and you find yourself curling his jacket snugger around your body. His scent is stuck to the collar and it helps lessen your shivering from the cold breeze.

He walks you to your side of the van and opens the door for you to climb in. Even after he gets in and begins driving down the same winding roads, there’s not much conversation between the two of you. The tension in the car is thick and incredibly palpable. You’re indecisive about whether to break the silence or leave it untouched so as to not make it worse.

Eventually Frank pulls into his parking spot that faces the front door of his apartment. After putting the van in park and walking around to open your door once more, you take his hand and carefully step down. He unlocks the door and gets you inside quickly, trying to shield you from the chilly air. Once he flicks the lights on, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of his living room and feel that desire to touch him creep back in. Your name falls from his lips and you turn your head at the sound.

“I’m sorry if I went too far back there. I shouldn’t have—,” he begins to apologize, but you’re quick to interrupt by pressing your lips to his. A surprised grunt comes from him and you smirk into the kiss, pleased to have caught him off guard. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and begins leading you towards the couch. When you feel the back of your knees hit the curve of the cushion, you angle yourself in front of Frank and push him into the sofa below.

He looks up at you with his lips parted and his chest is noticeably bringing in deeper breaths each time he inhales. His usually soft, brown eyes have a darkened glint to them and you’re certain you’ve never seen this emotion on him before. Your pulse is racing through your own body and you swiftly straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips.

His impatient fingers grab hold of you in a way no one ever has before. The action causes a surprised gasp to fall past your lips, but it’s swallowed down by Frank who can’t seem to keep his mouth off of yours. The light stubble decorating his jaw scratches at your skin and the rough feeling does nothing but spur you on further. You begin to roll your hips into his as you fall into a familiar pattern and he uses his hold to help guide you into moving faster.

His movements are rushed and needy and it makes you feel reassured that he wants this—he wants you. That little boost to your ego has your hands tracing down his body, your palms rubbing down his strong chest, before finally reaching his belt. Your fingers search blindly for the leather and the sound of the buckle clinking sounds out in between the wet noises of your kisses.

“Woah, easy,” Frank breaks the kiss the second the sound reaches his ears. “Let’s just, uh…” he trails off and you feel his fingers gently prying yours away. “Let’s take it slow, alright?” His tone is so soft and the concern is written clearly across his features.

“Frank, please,” you try to reason with him. “I didn’t even drink tonight! And I just… last time I was all worked up and I really want to do this.” You finish with a pout as you glance up at him with pleading eyes. He swallows hard as he stares at you for a moment, probably battling something internally.

“What do you wanna do?” he asks slowly, trying to make his words clear. The question is so simple but admitting it to him makes you feel small again.

“I… I want to touch you,” you mumble, silently hoping he doesn’t ask you to be more explicit than that.

“You sure you want this?” His eyes never leave yours as he confirms your consent.

“I really do,” you reply, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin and watch as he begins to shut his eyes and breathe deeply. “Please?”

You’re not sure if it’s the quiet plea, his own craving that’s swaying his decision, or some combination of the two, but he slowly uncurls his fingers from your wrist. You beam brightly at him and whisper a thanks as you peck him on the cheek.

“You’re still gonna have to walk me through it, Frank,” you say through a small chuckle.

He nods with an equally quiet, “I know.”

From there, he doesn’t try to deter your movements any longer. He lets you continue as you slide his belt past the metal buckle. You look up at him for reassurance and he nods his head with a smile. He takes your hand in his and pulls it to his bulge, letting you feel it properly for the first time. Excitement races through you and settles in your lower stomach as you watch your hand touch him over the denim.

“Can I take your jeans off?” Your question is met with another nod as he lets go of you. Slipping the button past the slit, you then lower the zipper past the teeth and the sound feels so loud in the otherwise silent room. You move to sit beside him and Frank helps you tug his pants down, raising his hips to lower them some more until they fall past his knees. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and your eyes linger far too long on how they hug his thighs.

The thick outline stretching the fabric is enough to recenter your attention though. You start to feel the nerves coming back once you register just how big he is as he lies against his hip. You always had a feeling, given the sheer size of the man, but seeing it is a whole other experience. Thankfully, Frank doesn’t rush you as he lets you take this all in. You hesitantly move your hand over the length of him, brushing your fingers over the defined line underneath the head of his cock.

The next thing you reach for is the waistband of his boxers. You curl your fingers over the edge and tug them down, watching as more and more of his happy trail becomes exposed. He once again helps you pull them past his legs and now that he’s bare in front of you, you can’t help your eyes from widening. You had thought the bulge was big, but it was misleading; Frank is actually much larger than you had anticipated.

“What? You’ve never seen—?” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I have. I’ve seen, like, porn before but…” you find your voice leaving you as you stare between his legs. “It’s just bigger in person.” His chuckle sounds out and you raise your head to the noise only to be met by an amused smirk at your confession.

“S’not just cause it’s in person, kid,” he laughs through his words and you roll your eyes at his cockiness. You like that you can still crack jokes during a time like this and you find yourself thankful that you get to have Frank as your first introduction to sex. Feeling more relaxed, you reach forward and gently curl your fingers around his thick base.

“You can hold it tighter than that,” he speaks up after a second.

“I know,” you respond, tightening your hold on him a little more. He snorts lightly at the, apparently, subtle increase in pressure and you feel his larger hand curling around your own. His long fingers squeeze over yours, adjusting your grip on his length as he begins to move your hand up and down. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, two things you hadn’t given much thought of before now. Frank lifts your hand once more and a satisfied sigh leaves him.

The sound stirs something in your stomach and you try to swallow down your own growing arousal at the noise he’s making. He loosens his hold on you and you watch as his hands find the hem of his shirt before bunching it up and exposing the lower half of his stomach. There’s so much to look at and it’s pulling your attention in too many ways. You try to focus on him in your hand though and begin speeding up your movements.

“You can spit on it,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You turn to face him and feel your eyebrows pull together at his words.

“Like just… spit on it?” The confusion is more than likely obvious in your tone but you want to ensure that you don’t embarrass yourself with him. Not now when you’ve made it this far.

“Yeah, go for it,” he encourages gently. With one last glance at him, you lean forward and lower your head over his length. You purse your lips and part them as you let the split slowly drip until it’s sliding over his head. You watch as it runs down past the tip and Frank clears his throat.

“Shit, yeah that…” he trails off as he raises his hips slightly. “That works too.” You smile at his words and wonder if his movement was an instinctual reaction to the warmth running along the smooth skin of his cock.

With the help of the extra slick added to his length, you begin to work your hand faster on him. You know from what you’ve heard that the tip is more sensitive, so you raise your hand right underneath his head and tighten your grip. A grunt immediately falls from him and you impulsively let go of him. You face him with a worried expression and watch as he brings in a deep breath before swallowing thickly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just felt real damn good.” The praise in his words immediately rushes to your heart and you feel yourself swell with pride. You can’t believe you made him feel that good, but now you’re determined to see what other sounds you can pull from his pretty lips. As you focus your attention back to his cock, you see a few beads of precum beginning to bubble up at his swollen tip. You rub your thumb in circles over the slit, spreading around the proof of his pleasure, and you feel him twitch in your hold.

“Shiiiiiit,” the drawn out curse sounds raspy and you don’t stop your movements as you check once again to see his reaction. Frank’s head is tilted back slightly against the couch cushion, his mouth is parted, and his eyes are scrunched up slightly. You try your hardest to memorize this version of him. You wish you could ingrain this memory so you’ll never forget how good he looks when he’s succumbing to his pleasure.

Twisting your hand as you move it over his length, you notice the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows down presumably another groan. You can’t resist the urge to feel even more of him, and press your lips against his neck. Lazy kisses are littered across his skin while you work your hand faster, intermittently tightening your hold on his thickness. His throat tightens as he feels the wet marks of your affection, and the next thing you feel is his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls gently as he tugs your head up to his and he kisses down your surprised gasp, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You’re having trouble keeping up with his movements and you realize this must be what it’s like to be kissed breathlessly. Any moment you get, you’re greedily gulping down air before he continues his ravenous attack on your lips. You never slow the speed of your hand and press yourself against his side, trying to feel more of him to satiate your need. Frank tries to break the kiss but you push against him harder, not wanting to let go for a second. But he tries again, grabbing your wrist gently and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“What did I do?” you ask in a worried tone. He’s quick to lock his eyes with yours and speaks clearly.

“You’re okay. You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he starts, and then nods down towards his lap. “I’m almost there, kid. Just wanted to warn you before it happens.” And just like that, a wide grin splits across your face. I’m making him feel that good?!

“I really wanna make you come, Frank,” you tell him honestly and you notice his cock twitch slightly as he registers your words.

“You keep talking like that and you will,” he grumbles in a low voice. His tone almost seems as if it was meant as a warning, but all it does is add to the fire in the pit of your stomach. You’re quick to reach for him again and fall back into the rhythm you established just seconds ago. With each pass of your hand you feel the veins protruding slightly through his skin and make sure to add slightly more pressure to the ring underneath his tip—he seemed to like that in particular.

“Just like that—fuck, attagirl,” he breathes through gritted teeth while he stares down at your smaller fingers wrapped snugly around him. The praise courses through you and you hide your face in his neck. You place sloppy kisses under his jaw and listen as more grunts start to fall from his parted lips. They slowly twist into a new sound and it takes you a second to realize it’s your name that’s coming out in a twisted groan. You glance down and watch as he raises his hips for a moment to chase after the feeling of you, his orgasm following soon after.

One long moan falls from him as warmth spills over your hands. You make sure not to miss a single second and don’t dare slow down or pull away. You want Frank to feel as good as possible and so you’ll drag this out for as long as you can. White begins to coat his head and the rest of his length as you continue moving over him. It isn’t until he reaches for your wrist that you take notice of the way his thigh is tense and you let go to give him some relief.

“T…That’s enough,” he pants as he speaks through uneven breathing. You mumble an apology as you snuggle into his side again, leaving the remainder of your kisses on his collarbone. His hand rubs at your back while he regains his breath and you feel him press his lips to your forehead. 

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you follow his gaze to the mess in his lap. His cock lies on his hip, all spent and giving a weak twitch once or twice. You don’t even try to hide the smile that grows on your face at the sight.

“Oh, you proud of yourself, huh?” he asks through a fit of chuckles. “You should be,” he holds you to his side again. “Did so fuckin’ good.” You feel another long kiss to the side of your head. Pride isn’t even a strong enough word to describe how you feel at this moment.

“Thank you, Frank,” you smile up at him.

“Thank me? Nah, you did all that,” he brushes it off just like last time. “Thank you for making me feel good, kid. You were absolutely perfect.” The warmth spreading to your cheeks makes you hide your face in his chest again. You weren’t really sure how a scene like this was supposed to normally end, but Frank doesn’t say anything more. He keeps you close in his arms and you can still hear his pulse attempting to slow in his chest. For now, you don’t want to question what comes next; for once, you’re comfortable exactly where you are.

Taglist: @chellestrash @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl @xxdrixx @yaminax @nabiiturner @imwaytoolazyforthis @vechkinfan @himesuedi @0-goblin-0 @soleilcastle @innebulae @punishersmainchick @eddiemunsonsbelover @tea-drinking-nerd

[someonegoood]

MY WHOLE LIFE pt. 2 ✫ mason mount

part 1, part 2, final part.

in which life does not go on after Mason breaks your heart over and over again. (brother’s best friends troop).

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst, some smut (not really explicit) & fluff ! age gap, arguments...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: here's part 2 ! Mason made his first goal for United and I'm emotional 💞 I'll do part 3 later

taglist: @dreamingofautopia @xjval @sunflower-tia @sad-fridge2323 @girlidekanymore @borbolwra3

Chelsea added to their story.

Your phone notified you, immediately dampening your mood. Everything was related to him.

It’s been two months since Mason shattered your heart after that nightmare of a night. The funny thing is that a part of you didn’t hate him, a part of you that still loved him existed. 

You had waited for him to text you to ask how you were and if you were free to hang out. And by the time you realized that he wasn’t going to, it was too late… too awkward for you to ask as well. So, both of you had resorted to ignorance and hostility. 

Life eventually went on, even though you had cut one of the most important people out of your life. And you’d see yourself by night, in your dreams. All these faces in the crowded city of London, and for some reason, you’d still try to find his. Mason was no longer yours.

Although he never was.

The first time Mason saw you after that night was a couple of months later, at a family lunch. The two families —Mounts and yours—had united in your family's garden for a little lunch to catch up on life. You had turned twenty and Lyon was old news. 

But Mason’s eyes were stuck on your body as he watched you sit between his sister and your brother just before him. Sipping from a glass of wine that you most likely didn’t like, he glanced at you.

Your brother had brought his new girlfriend with him and even though you were still as close as ever, his attention was on the pretty blonde talking to your nanny.

Mason had spent so much of his life avoiding you, but after the night of the party, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. Although he just couldn’t. 

—Dear, will you serve me a little piece of that cake? —Your mother had her plate in her hand, waiting for Mason to react. It took him about five seconds to come out of his trance and then he served her what she had ordered.

He was too busy thinking about you.

—So, Mason… when is your next match? Your dad told me you were playing for England. —Your mom tried to lighten up the mood since you were not bickering with Mason as you were on other occasions. 

Mason smiled up while you looked at him and caught a glimpse of his beautiful Cheshire cat smile.

—I’m playing next week, on Sunday… —He looked around at everyone and proceeded. —You are all invited, of course. 

After an hour or two, everyone stood up, scattering around the decorated garden. Mason grabbed his phone from the table and headed to the kitchen in search of a beer.

In the background, the voices of the two families blurred together as you finished washing your plate. Both Mount sisters were busy playing card games with their mother and your brother was having a talk about politics, which you were not at all interested in. You had no one to talk to.

Suddenly, you feel someone behind you trying to open the refrigerator. That bloody refrigerator, which, being so old, could not be opened correctly. You turned around, not expecting to see Mason looking at you.

You headed to the refrigerator to open it, so Mason moved from where he was previously standing, leaning on the kitchen counter. You gave the refrigerator a little kick and it opened.

—Thanks… —He said grabbing the beer, the tension being palpable in the air. After a long pause, you continued:

—How are you? —you asked, he could feel your eyes staring into his side profile, but he stared at the sun setting over the British landscape.

—I’m alright.

Scoring some scarce points with Chelsea has become almost impossible under a year ago now, and you really felt sorry for him, knowing everything he and his team put in.

—How are you holding up? —you stood next to him, nudging his shoulder with yours, before looking down at the floor. You felt the look of pity that Mason was giving you, but you tried to ignore it.

—Thank you, really. 

—Mase...

He looked in your eyes this time, he looked so sad, so broken. So desperate for a hug. You didn’t pressure him to answer your question, instead, you gently placed your head on his shoulder looking along the garden in silence.

—It will be alright, you know. —He hummed, knowing you were still hurt because of what he had said.

—I know. —You whispered back. —And don't worry much about scoring, in the least expected moments your shot is the one that serves the most.

He hated how much you believed him because at that moment he felt like the six-year-old boy with dreams bigger than the world itself, who thought everything was possible. 

Mason looked down at you, the smile on his lips was enough to melt your heart, and threw his head back in a laugh. 

—I don't think I’m ever getting rid of you.

Now it was your turn to laugh. After all the laughing he noticed how your eyes shifted from his own to his lips, and then he remembered why he was avoiding you in the first place. He did a face.

—I know, I know. —You said with a sad look on your face.

—You know I’m too old for you, right? —Mason whispered as he leaned his forehead on yours.

—I’m in it for the long game, Mount.

It felt like your heart was twisting and stuttering, sometimes beating too quickly that you were afraid it was going to push you over the edge. You wanted him to notice, to do something to fix it. 

Time went on flying, the last few days being hectic. It was already Sunday and today Mason was playing with England and obviously, you were more than proud. He had invited your brother —his best friend—, you and your family to watch him from the special box for family and friends.

The cold air hits your face as soon as you enter the box with your family. Excited, you see Debbie and Tony, and their children already seated. You were so nervous that your hands were even sweating.

You sit next to Stacey, Mason's older sister. She gives you a smile.

—Nervous about the game? —she asks.

—A bit, yes... —you say as you settle down, your eyes scanning the pitch, looking for him. For Mason. 

—This should be an easy game, England has a better team.

—You never know. —you reply. You were almost freezing, you only had the basic England t-shirt on.

Stacey noticed that you were shivering from the cold and decided to take off the sweatshirt she had tied around her shoulders. She put it on your lap and smiled.

—Put it on, otherwise, you'll freeze to death here. —she said, laughing.

—I'm... —You said about to deny it. For a second, you thought about the cold that you would catch without the sweatshirt, so you decided to take it. —Oh, never mind.

The sweatshirt was white and had his number and surname printed on the front, in a blue font. This made you remember the uncountable times when you stole Mason's sweatshirts just to have his number on you.

Stacey, without you seeing, grabbed her phone and texted his brother: "Just wanted to say that she's here and she's got your name on her sweatshirt. Good luck! We're all rooting for you. And don't worry, she'll wait for you."

All of a sudden, Summer, Mason's niece, came up to you asking if she could sit in your lap to have a better look at the pitch. It was no secret that Summer enjoyed seeing you, as she had grown up seeing your brother and you in the Mount household.

—Look over there, Summer! There is your uncle. —said Stacey, and both Summer and you looked over to where the players were entering the enormous pitch. There he was, beautiful as always.

The whistle was blown and the match started. Everyone was immersed in the excitement of the box, watching the match carefully. The atmosphere was electric, and each second increased the tension.

—Yes! —You screamed when Mason's friend, Declan, scored the opening goal, feeling your heart beat against your chest rapidly. Summer looked up at you with wide eyes, before she started giggling. You smiled and leaned down to where she was and kissed her on the forehead.

The second half started and your eyes only followed Mason running up and down the pitch. Only one goal was scored in the whole 45 minutes of the first half, that being Declan's goal.

Abruptly, Stones stole the ball from a player on the opposing team. He ran alone, jumped over some defenders and, feinting, the ball passed to Henderson on the right side. He analyzed the position of the players spread around the pitch before passing it to Foden, who was almost close to the goal.

He passed it to Mason and he, avoiding the players, aimed and kicked with all his strength.

The world went silent for a moment. He had scored.

After realizing that he had scored a goal, Mason ran to the end of the field, right where you were. The atmosphere was pure shouting, people jumping and celebrating but you only had eyes for Mason.

He looked towards the box looking for those who truly love him and just at that precise moment, you connected glances. With a shaky breath, you stood up from your seat and waved to him, also trying to hold Summer up with your other arm.

Mason's heart melted when he saw that scene and many things went through his head: he couldn't believe he had scored a goal after so long and he also couldn't believe how beautiful you looked with his niece in your arms.

In celebration, he pointed to both of you and you could only sigh in love. The game ended with a great performance from Mason and a win for England.

As soon as he stepped into the box, he scanned the room for you, but Summer caught him off guard.

—Uncle Mase! —she ran toward him and he picked her up, planting a kiss on her cheek while she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

—My favourite person! —His eyes fell on you and he didn't know if it was his imagination or the fact that he hadn't seen you in days, but you looked prettier than usual.

You were standing at the back, watching Mason greet his family. You felt shy and awkward, which made you hate the feeling even more. All you wanted was love from him and for that, you haven't slept well in the days after the family lunch with the Mount's.

—I played well, all thanks to you. —He kissed her head and his niece giggled. The little girl ran toward her mother and then closed the door, leaving you and Mason all alone. Your family had congratulated Mason before and told you they were waiting outside.

—How have you been? —His voice was gentle like he was afraid to say something.

—Mason! —you laughed. —You just scored a tremendous goal for England and you ask me how am I? Sometimes I don't understand you.

—Alright, alright. You have a point! —he laughed, definitely not missing those nervous butterflies in his stomach. He felt like a little boy.

His gaze searched yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He scratched the back of his neck and then looked at your sweatshirt with his surname and number.

His number looked very good on you, he thought.

He gazed at your lips and he came dangerously close to you. You stepped back, hitting the table. Mason was looking straight into your eyes when he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and sat you on the table. You let out a little squeal. The air was thick with tension, and all you craved was to pull him close and kiss him passionately.

—We-we should go. —you said, clearing your throat. —Your family is waiting.

Quickly, Mason grabbed your wrist.

—Mase... You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. His breath hitches.

—I feel things… —your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him say that.

Pushing his hand down, you look back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again.

What he didn't know is that he's everything you were imagining those long nights… he had never kissed you, not even touched you.

—It’s okay if you want to stop- —he said, while you slid your hands under his t-shirt. Running up and down your hands through his lower torso, you felt his abs contract.

—Mount, I'm certain that I'm okay. —you said, giggling. He smirked. Your core grows tighter with his expressions, now holding onto his broad shoulders.

Unexpectedly, you both heard from behind the closed door someone shout: —Mate, are you there? The party starts at ten, hurry!

Fuck. That was your brother.

Mason had completely forgotten about the party in honour of their win. How the fuck was he getting out of that room with a hard-on? He had to calm himself.

You, on the other side, felt your heart falls into pieces. You thought about how long you had waited for this exact moment, every time you gave your endless hope all you ended up doing was bleeding. And this time, not only he was about to leave you alone but he was going to leave you turned on.

—I'm-I'm sorry... —he said, exiting quickly from the room.

After that match, you only heard from Mason through your brother. He had told you that after the match, at the party, Mason had rejected every girl who appeared to flirt with him.

Apparently, you've had an effect on him.

Mason hated how his heartbeat boomed in his ear when he saw you standing in his parents' house, with a blue shirt that had printed out the number 19 on the back, hugging your figure. 

You had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, you had for sure gone through puberty. He didn’t like to stare but he found it hard not to sometimes. Especially on family boat trips when you would wear a bikini in front of him.

—So, we're leaving after lunch. Do you want to meet at the stadium or at home?

You took a minute to understand. —What?

—The game, remember? We're having lunch here and then driving up to watch the game. —Said your brother, while getting on the boat. About three weeks had passed since you almost kissed Mason and now you were about to hop on the Mount's boat in Portsmouth.

You had completely forgotten about the game. During your conversations with your brother, you could sense that Mason hadn't mentioned anything about that night which was, in a way, kind of relieving.

Just like you, Mason had also forgotten that your family was coming over. But when his sister sent him a text saying that your family would join him before his game, he was flabbergasted.

You both hadn't spoken since the night of the win, but you both were thinking about that interaction since then. To forget that incident, he had spoken to one of his best friends, Ben, in search of a solution.

—Mate, what you need is a good fling. Maybe you should invite someone next time you're going on a family boat day —said Ben, laughing because of what Mason was asking him.

You got on Mason's boat, feeling heavy-hearted once again. After an hour, you were seated on the floor, helping Stacey with a puzzle, after your mom expelled you from the kitchen when trying to help her. Meanwhile, Mason and his mother sat down on the couch.

—She has grown into a beautiful woman, don't you think? —His mom said teasingly, already knowing that you were not the only one fallen for someone.

—Yes, she has. —He looked at you, seeing you laugh at something his sister had said. —Mom... I think I fucked up.

—If you had fucked up, she wouldn't be here.

—No mom, I really- —Mason got interrupted by the entrance of a tall, dark-eye, skinny blond, almost gotten out from a runway. She turned toward Mason and presented herself as Daphne, a friend. Debbie now understood why her son said he had fucked up really bad.

Your brother, seeing Daphne —the supposed fling of Mason— talking with him, turned to you.

—Forget your stuff, let’s just get off this boat. Don’t turn around okay? —his hands gripping strongly your shoulders. He knew how much you liked his best friend.

You laughed and followed your brother down the steps of the boat before stopping in your tracks.

—Since when have I ever listened to you? Dear God, I- — Your mouth fell open as you turned around to be met with Mason and his mother, and the presence of a girl that looked like an actual model.

She was leaning on him and he was laughing at whatever she had to say, while Debbie looked at you with pity. You felt like he had personally ripped your heart out, for a hundred times.

—You knew?

Your brother sighed before running his hands through his hair: —She's only a side thing, a one-time fling. I mean she’s not you, but he decided to find someone before Christmas. —He shrugged his shoulders and you felt the rage creeping up your body.

—What about me? When will I be happy? —you said, crying.

That sentence broke your brother's heart.

19 years to be exact, that's the time you've been waiting for him.

[kepamount]

clueless

mason mount x reader one shot - fake dating, smut and fluff

warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, virgin reader, first time sex, dom!mason and sub!reader, dirty talk, praise and degradation, body worship, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, overstimulation, I think that's it but pls lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 18.1k+ (she's a mammoth, ofc)

a/n: this is unedited and it’s also 2 different wips mashed together so pls forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies, i’ll edit this tomorrow! happy valentine's day! ik i've been very quiet recently but i'm gifting you guys with this to make up for it! the buildup is very long but the smut is hopefully worth it lol, it's very soft by my usual standard but i think you guys will still like it! lmk what you think <3

‘You’re late,’ I say as I open the front door, not bothering to welcome him in before I turn and head back into the kitchen, his amused chuckling making me roll my eyes. I continue with the washing up, hearing him shut the front door and enter the kitchen a few moments later.

‘You’re late too. I said to be ready for half past. It’s quarter to and you’re still washing up,’ he points out, helping himself to a cookie from the jar on the counter before sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘I only started washing up because you weren’t here yet. What do you expect me to do? Sit by the door waiting for you?’ I ask without looking at him, washing the dishes with vigour to get my irritation out. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I expect,’ he responds, smirk audible in his voice, and I look over my shoulder to shoot him a death stare, looking at him properly for the first time.

Annoyingly, he looks as handsome as he always does, dressed in a pair of baby blue joggers and a white t-shirt with some obscure designer logo on it. His beard is at the perfect length, and so is his hair, fluffy and soft-looking. His skin is just about holding onto its tan from the World Cup and he looks like he’s been spending a lot of time in the gym, clothes tighter around his muscles than they used to be.

‘Can we go? As nice as the view is from here, I don’t want to spend my day off watching you wash up,’ he says impatiently, his demand annoying me so much that I almost don’t notice the comment on my ass. ‘Maybe if you hadn’t been late,’ I say irritably, rinsing off the last dish before washing my hands and drying them, the boy eating another cookie.

‘Stop eating all my cookies,’ I snap, so close to snatching it out of his hand, and he rolls his eyes before finishing it off. ‘I’ll buy you more.’ ‘I made them myself.’ ‘Oh, so that’s why they taste like shit then,’ he grins, and I take a deep breath to compose myself, heading towards the front door before I put his head through my kitchen wall.

I sit down on the bottom step of the staircase to put my boots on, doing up the zip slowly so I don’t catch my socks in it (it’s happened one too many times, and I’m sick of having holey socks). I’m wearing an outfit inspired by Clueless – a white bodycon ribbed dress with a thin pink cardigan over the top of it, and white knee high boots that add a couple extra inches to my height.

I check my reflection in the mirror beside the front door, Mason leaning against the doorframe and inspecting his nails in a way that indicates how bored he is waiting for me, and I make sure my phone, keys, lipgloss and powder are all in my little white Hermes Kelly bag before I turn to face him.

‘Ready?’ Mason asks, not waiting for an answer before he opens the door and walks out. Chivalry is dead. I lock up behind us, the boy already sat in the car by the time I head down the patio steps, and I’m surprised when he at least has the courtesy to push open the passenger side door for me. The kindness of the gesture is lost when the door hits me and nearly knocks me over, Mason laughing uncontrollably as I scowl at him.

I climb into the car, shutting the door behind me before adjusting the seat to my liking. He starts the engine, racing out of my driveway as I connecting my phone with Bluetooth to the car. He doesn’t say anything but his pursed lips say everything for him – he’s always complaining about my passenger-princess tendencies. I shuffle my Summer Walker playlist, Mason groaning when the opening notes of ‘Tonight’ start playing out of the speakers on either side of us. He skips it, but when he realises the next song’s Summer as well, he doesn’t bother trying to turn it off, letting me skip it back to the last song.

‘All you listen to is RnB. Doesn’t it get boring?’ he grumbles as I sing along obnoxiously loud, flexing my vocals by acing Summer’s runs. ‘Better than the music you listen to.’ ‘I listen to music by people that you’re friends with.’ ‘That’s beside the point. They might be my friends but I can acknowledge that their music is not good.’ ‘It’s not a flex to have no taste.’

‘I know you, a footballer, are not trying to tell me, a singer-songwriter, about music taste. I don’t try and tell you about… football stuff,’ I say pointedly, and he shoots me a side-eye. ‘Because you haven’t got a clue about football.’ ‘Neither do you but I don’t say shit,’ I say sweetly, getting a half-hearted dirty look in response.

‘What are we doing today?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘You haven’t planned anything?’ I ask jokingly, and he doesn’t even dignify it with a response, both of us knowing fully well that I always plan our dates. ‘It’s Valentine’s next week. You have to plan that at least,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes at the reminder. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m sick of always planning our dates! You’re the boy. You should take responsibility for date planning, not me.’ ‘How feminist of you,’ he says sarcastically, and I scoff. ‘Feminism’s about choice, and I choose to be treated like a princess by my boyfriend.’ ‘Maybe you should find a real boyfriend instead then,’ he says dryly, and I let out an irritated huff.

Mason is my fake boyfriend – our agents work for the same company and thought it would be mutually beneficial for us to be in a PR relationship. For me, they thought dating Chelsea and England’s starboy would only boost me to higher levels of fame and introduce me and my music to an entirely new audience, and they were right – I never thought I’d have Chelsea fans asking me for photos outside Stamford Bridge before matches.

Mason, however, is getting a lot more out of this than I am. In the last year or so, he’s been getting a bit of a negative reputation – being pictured with influencer girlies, hanging with the wrong crowd, getting drunk a bit too often, not to mention the dip in his form on the pitch. His agent decided to find him a good, clean-cut girlfriend who would lead him back onto the straight and narrow, as well as help to change the minds of Chelsea fans who think he’s a lazy waste of space.

My reputation is perfect to improve Mason’s. I’ve never been involved in any kind of controversy and I’m always on my best behaviour when I’m out in public. On top of that, I went on a friend’s podcast about a year ago, and when the conversation turned to NDAs and celebrity flings, I confessed that I’ve never dated and I’m a virgin. All of a sudden, I became the nation’s sweet, pure and innocent sweetheart. I hate to benefit from the patriarchy but my virginal status has made me a supposed ‘good role model’ for the young girls of today, so my fanbase has increased drastically.

‘Maybe I will. Then you can kiss your improved reputation goodbye.’ ‘More than I can do to you. Maybe then I can find a less boring fake girlfriend. Someone who’s actually been touched by a man before,’ he says pointedly, bringing up the contract I made him sign despite his reluctance for the thousandth time.

Mason and I actually knew each other before this whole thing started – we ran in the same social circles, and we always got along relatively well. But, as soon as I laid out the rules about what he could and couldn’t do with me, things quickly went sour in our relationship.

Because the entire world thinks he’s dating me, he’s not allowed to flirt/date/kiss/sleep with any other girls – it would only tarnish his reputation even more if it got out, defeating the point of this relationship. I assume he thought I’d sleep with him (so that he’d still be getting some), so he didn’t take it well at all when I told him I didn’t even want him to kiss me, let alone sleep with me.

He thought I was being unreasonable, and that no one would believe we were together if there wasn’t any PDA, but I thought it was perfectly reasonable that I didn’t want to waste all my firsts on a fake boyfriend– I just about allowed him to hold my hand or put his hand on my lower back (not too low though). As time’s gone on, we’ve been getting along less and bickering more, so now he barely even does those things. It’s like he hates touching me – he practically jumps a mile in the air whenever our arms brush against each other. It doesn’t bother me much though – I’d much rather be touched by a man that actually wants to touch me.

‘You need to tell me what we’re doing so I know which way to go,’ he says, coming to a stop at a junction. ‘The Vault. I need to get my nails done, and do some shopping.’ ‘You’re having a laugh. You basically want me to be your taxi driver and bag-holder today. That’s not a date,’ he says, sounding outraged, and I roll my eyes. ‘We can go for dinner there too. And anyway, celeb couples always go shopping together,’ I say mildly, the boy still shaking his head despite how he takes the turning for the route to The Vault, a designer outlet around five minutes away from my house.

He drives in a stony silence but I don’t let his bad mood dampen my good one, still singing along to Summer Walker and watching the world pass us by out the window. This weather is still freezing at the moment but it’s a beautiful day regardless of the temperature. The sky’s a lovely clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sun is beating down brightly.

It’s not long until we arrive at the shopping centre, and Mason pulls up in front of the main entrance, both of us getting out of the car. Mason grabs a matching baby blue hoodie out of the boot before handing the valet the keys while I fix my skirt, making sure I look picture perfect.

He waits for me to join him, offering his hand reluctantly, and I take it, letting him lock his fingers with mine. We walk through the automatic doors into the warmth of The Vault, and I let out a happy sigh. I love this place so much – the fluffy carpets, comfy chaise lounge chairs and crystal chandeliers everywhere scream luxury.

‘Where to first?’ Mason asks, and I point towards the directory stand, the nail shop on the third floor. He leads me to the lift, letting me in first and pressing the buttons so I don’t have to get my hands dirty. He’s lacking in a lot of things, but he’s always a gentleman in public, and I appreciate it even if it is just for the eyes of everyone else.

When we enter the nail shop, whispers run around the room. It tends to be only rich people that shop at The Vault, but it’s not every day that two international stars walk in together. ‘y/n, darling! How are you?’ my nail tech asks, appearing from the back room to come and give me a hug. ‘I’m good, Christie. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, my love. So introduce me then,’ she prompts, not one for subtlety, and I cringe internally as I say, ‘this is my boyfriend, Mason. Mase, this is Christie, my nail tech.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says with a brilliant smile, his charming behaviour making me supress an eyeroll. I never get this charming side – he reserves it for everyone else, and I get the annoying dickhead side instead. ‘Such a good-looking boy,’ Christie says to me, and I force out a little laugh, making myself nod in agreement. ‘Not as good-looking as my girlfriend, though,’ he jokes naturally with a little smile at me, affection in his eyes, and I’m taken aback at how good his acting is.

‘Of course, of course. Now, come, let’s get started,’ Christie says, leading us to her table in the corner, everyone’s eyes following us across the room. I take a seat, hanging my bag on the chair, and Mason hovers awkwardly beside me. ‘Sit here, Mase,’ I say, motioning to the seat beside me, but he shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna do some shopping. I’ll be back in a bit,’ he says, and I feel a little bit guilty for dragging him here.

‘You can… go, if you want. I’ll get Isla to pick me up later,’ I say, but he waves it off immediately. ‘Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind looking around the shops. I’ll be back soon, alright?’ he says, and I nod, mustering up a smile for him as he goes. The other girls in the shop watch him as he walks to the exit, sparking jealousy in me, followed by surprise at myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but the thought of these other girls fancying him makes me rage internally.

Christie starts removing my old set, distracting me as she chatters away about the latest drama in her tumultuous life. Last time I saw her, she was dating a Brighton player, but now apparently she’s moved on from him and she’s got a Kpop boy in her DMs. I get my nails done every three weeks, and she has a different love interest every single time.

Mason reappears when Christie’s painting gel polish onto my new set, a smile on his face when I meet his eyes. All the girls are watching him again but his eyes don’t stray from me, satisfaction filling me. Ogle him all you want, ladies, but he’s my fake boyfriend.

He has a Starbucks cup in his hand which he puts down on the table as he sits in the chair beside me. ‘An iced blonde caramel macchiato with soy milk and sugar-free syrup,’ he announces, and I can’t hold back my smile as I look at him in surprise. ‘You remembered my order?’ I ask, and he lets out a laugh. ‘Not off by heart. It’s in my notes app so I don’t have to ask you every time,’ he says, the truth touching me even more. He knew he won’t be able to remember so he made a note of it. It’s sweet.

‘You’re cute, Mount,’ I say affectionately, maybe giving him the first compliment since this relationship began. ‘You’re about to find me even cuter,’ he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of gourmet jelly beans that he must have gotten from Selfridges – their confectionary section is massive. ‘Mase,’ I say, dragging the word out in a way that makes him grin.

‘Thought you might want a snack, because you’ve probably only had fruit for breakfast,’ he says, knowing me so well, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, because jelly beans are really gonna make up for a light breakfast.’ ‘Better than nothing.’ ‘I suppose. Thank you,’ I say, leaning towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek, the boy raising an eyebrow when I pull away. I only save cheek kisses for when he’s not being at all irritating, and he knows that. The smirk on his face clearly means he’s satisfied at being in my good books for once.

Christie has one of my hands in the UV nail lamp and the other in her hand, intricately painting on a heart, so I can’t pick up the drink. I lean towards it to try and take a sip but it’s a little too far away, and I don’t want to move too much for fear of getting told off by Christie (the woman doesn’t play). ‘Here,’ Mason says, lifting the cup and holding it to me. I take a long sip through the straw, our eyes locked together, and I feel weirdly shy under his gaze, dropping eye contact after a few moments. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused at my nerves.

Come on, bitch, pull yourself together. Don’t let Mason Mount get you flustered. ‘Want a jelly bean?’ he asks and I nod, Mason opening the packet and getting one out. I stick my tongue out, and he falters for a moment, victory filling me. He puts the jelly bean on my tongue, eyes on mine, and I take the jelly bean into my mouth, chewing it with a small smile, the boy rolling his eyes.

We go on like that while Christie does my nails, Mason feeding me jelly beans (whilst eating more than double the amount I do) and holding up my drink for me to have a sip every couple minutes, his phone in his hand as he scrolls distractedly through tiktok. We start an unspoken game, trying to get each flustered and seeing who can hold eye contact longer. I hate to admit it, but he’s definitely winning, and it really pisses me off.

Yes, I’m a virgin, but I still own and use my sexuality – I might know nothing about the actual act of sex but I know how to make a guy want it. Before I was with Mason, I’d get a kick out of leading on these rich and famous guys only to leave them hanging. Not over a long time, of course. Just for a couple hours at parties or in the club. There’s something so fun about letting a guy think he’s gonna get to take you home but leaving with your girls instead. It’s always the same, with prolonged eye contact, suggestive actions (putting on lipgloss or sipping a drink with puckered lips through a straw), and light physical contact. But Mason’s never fallen prey to any of that – he’s never tried it on with me.

I suppose it’s a good thing, because he’s really fucking annoying and I don’t want to sleep with him. We’re at a mutual agreement that this is nothing more than a fake relationship and all we have to do is tolerate each other, so it’d ruin that if either of us ever tried to make it something more. Not that either of us want to, of course. We literally can’t stand each other.

‘Shall I add his initials?’ Christie asks, breaking me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a moment to register her question. In that moment, Mason answers for me. ‘Yeah, add my initials,’ he grins, and I barely stop myself from shooting him a dirty look. ‘Shall I do it on your ring finger?’ she asks, and I cringe internally. I’m about to get the initials of a guy who doesn’t see me romantically painted on my ring finger nail. The finger I’m supposed to save for an engagement ring.

‘Um… do his initials on the right ring finger, and his number on the left ring finger. 19,’ I say – it doesn’t make much of a difference but it feels better than the other option. The base colour of my nails is nude, and the hearts are white and pink. Christie uses white to paint his number onto the pink heart on my left ring fingernail, and pink to paint his initials onto the white heart on my right ring fingernail. I hate to admit it but it looks really cute, and I get a warm feeling in my chest at having a boys’ initials on my nails, even if they are Mason’s.

‘Kimmy! Come and get some photos of her nails,’ Christie says, the social media girl rushing over with her phone. She has me putting my hands in different positions and angles, finally satisfied after five minutes of pictures and videos. Mason’s waiting for me beside the door with my bag and my drink in his hands, and I rush over, quickly saying goodbye to the other technicians.

‘£120, like usual?’ I ask Christie as I take my drink from Mason, the boy still holding my bag, and Christie shakes her head. ‘Your boyfriend paid already,’ she says before bidding me goodbye and disappearing off into the back. ‘You shouldn’t have p-’ ‘It’s fine. I made you get my initials so it’s only right,’ he says offhandedly, and I raise an eyebrow, a small smile on my lips. ‘It’s okay if you wanted to pay for them. You can just admit it,’ I joke, and he rolls his eyes.

‘It’s your Valentine’s present,’ he says, my jaw dropping. ‘You’d better be joking,’ I say threateningly, a small grin on his face. ‘I’m joking. I’ve already got your gifts, babe,’ he says easily, taking my hand into his, and I hear lots of ‘aww’s from the girls behind me. ‘Good,’ I reply sternly, letting him lead me out into the corridor, walking leisurely past the shops.

‘We actually do need to plan something for Valentine’s though,’ I say quietly once we’re out of earshot of anyone else, and he remains silent. ‘I know you’d rather not spend a random Tuesday night with me but it looks suspicious if we don’t do anything. And if we don’t plan something, our agents will, and their plans are always boring,’ I continue, met with even more silence. ‘Let’s not do the usual dinner and drinks. We could do an activity instead! Bowling is always cute. Or mini golf, even though I’m shit at it. Maybe even-’ ‘y/n,’ Mason cuts me off, hesitating to continue speaking before he sighs.

‘I’ve already planned Valentine’s,’ he admits, and I stare at him blankly for a long few moments. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve made plans for us already,’ he says, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask, and he sighs again. ‘I thought I’d surprise you. I heard you talking with Steph about how you’ve never done anything for Valentine’s with a boy, and I know you don’t want to waste all your firsts on a fake boyfriend, but we have to do something on Valentine’s anyway so I thought I’d make it special for you,’ he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I feel myself melting inside. I think I might even cry.

‘That’s… really nice. Thanks, Mase,’ I say softly, and he just waves off my gratitude, clearly feeling awkward. ‘It’s alright. It was about time I planned a date anyway, so I thought I’d show you how it’s done,’ he jokes, and I shove him lightly, laughing. ‘The dates I plan are always fun!’ ‘Oh, yeah, this date has been really fun,’ he says drily, and I feel a bit sheepish at that. I wanted to piss him off but now I feel guilty.

‘Let’s just go then,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s fine. Do your shopping first.’ ‘It can wait. There’s nothing urgent I need to get,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Where are we gonna go instead?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. ‘Back to mine,’ I say, a smirk finding his lips.

‘Say less.’ ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ I warn, the boy chuckling. ‘What are we gonna do at yours then?’ ‘Valentine’s baking!’ I say excitedly, the boy staring at me deadpan. ‘Baking?’ ‘Yes. You’re always eating my baking so now’s your chance to make up for it and do some baking of your own.’ ‘I’m always eating your baking because that’s what you’re supposed to do with it. Not just let it sit in a jar on your counter until it goes off,’ he says pointedly, and I roll my eyes.

‘Okay, fair point. But speaking of baking going off, those cookies are on their way out so they need replacing,’ I smile, and he just grumbles under his breath. ‘Fine, we’ll go back to your house and do baking, but you owe me a homecooked meal afterwards,’ he bargains. ‘Deal. What do you wanna eat?’ ‘You,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. ‘Other than me,’ I say, and he considers it for a second. ‘Tacos.’ ‘So me and tacos for dinner?’ I ask amusedly, and he laughs, pulling me into his arms. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘Oh, my feet are killing me,’ I sigh as we walk through my front door, Mason letting go of my hand so I can sit on the bottom step of my staircase. ‘Sorry. I should’ve told you to wear more sensible footwear,’ Mason says as he locks the door after himself, and I shake my head. ‘It’s fine. I would’ve worn these anyway. They’re my V-Day boots!’ I say happily, clicking my heels together.

After finding out I had surprise plans for Valentine’s Day, I bought a new pair of boots for the occasion. I already had a pink mini dress in the exact same shade as the hearts on these white boots, and I was sold the second I saw that the heels are heart-shaped. Mason said it was a bit morbid that every step I took was stamping on hearts, but I thought it was cute.

We’ve been bickering and having stupid arguments all day but, overall, I’ve really enjoyed spending Valentine’s Day with him. He’s been irritating as usual, but he’s also been sweet and romantic as well, which was definitely surprising. I didn’t say anything about it though, because we’re in a good patch at the moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

After he paid for my Valentine’s nails the other day, we come back and baked some Valentine’s cupcakes and cookies. We filmed a vlog for my YouTube channel and Tiktok videos for both of our accounts, like we always do when we do stuff like this. The difference this time was the lack of acting – our affection, flirting and joking together was all real. We bickered, like we always do, but it was light-hearted, and he kept resolving it with stuffing chocolate in my mouth or pulling me into warm hugs.

After baking, I cooked chicken tacos and we sat together at the kitchen island to eat. We chatted idly as we ate, and he actually complimented my cooking. When he got a call from his parents saying they were on their way to his house, the night ended abruptly and, despite my disappointment, I was relieved. I’d felt myself starting to look at him differently and that scared the shit out of me, so I was happy to send him on his way with a box of cupcakes and cookies for his family.

We didn’t speak again after then until last night, when he messaged telling me to be ready for 10am. He showed up on time, with gifts too! I proudly put the bouquet of red and white roses into a vase as he watched with a satisfied grin, making sure to put the single pink rose in the middle. He also insisted on me opening the box of chocolates so I could try one, and it was the best chocolate I’ve ever had. I googled the brand, To-ak, and I couldn’t believe my eyes at the price. He spent £300 on a box of chocolates for me.

We started the day with breakfast at my favourite brunch spot in The Vault. We got one avo-and-egg on toast and one plate of berry pancakes, sharing both dishes like a real couple. Then he drove us into the city for bowling and mini golf – he said he wanted to burst out laughing when I mentioned both of those things at The Vault last week. He tried his best to coach me at both activities (and I had no complaints at his body pressed up behind mine as he guided my movements and held my hands) but he still managed to beat me at both. I didn’t mind though – I would’ve gotten the ick if my athletic fake boyfriend lost to me at bowling and mini golf.

Then we went for Afternoon Tea on Park Lane followed by watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the West End. Mason has no interest in theatre but he knows I love it so he sucked it up, and even bought us box tickets so we had a perfect view of the stage. I didn’t even realise I was starting to get cold until I’d shivered, and Mason took his jacket off to lay it across my lap before moving closer to me, wrapping an arm around me to keep me warm.

After the theatre, he took me to dinner at Le Gavroche, an expensive French restaurant. I was too fussy to eat most of the food but I was still more than happy to be there, sitting opposite a pretty boy in a fancy restaurant, flirting over champagne and French cheese. And he got me McDonald’s nuggets on the way home so I wouldn’t complain about being hungry.

Now we’re back at mine. I invited him in, without any reason as to why, but he accepted. We’ve both been so… lovey-dovey and cute today. It’s so weird actually getting along with him but it feels right at the same time, which is scary. Multiple times today, I’ve had to remind myself that our relationship is fake, feeling a jolt at the thought.

‘Who buys new shoes for Valentine’s Day?’ he asks amusedly. ‘Bad bitches,’ I say proudly before trying to take them off. With them being brand new, the zips are very stiff, and I’m holding them at a stupid angle because of my long nails. ‘Let me help,’ Mason laughs after a few seconds of watching me struggle, dropping to one knee and lifting his hands to the top of my left zip. His skin brushes against mine, the contact at my inner thigh making me shiver, and his eyes remain locked with mine as he undoes the zip, carefully pulling the boot off my foot and leaving me in my thigh high socks. He does the same with the other, the completely innocent act making my stomach clench.

He stands up, holding out a hand to help me up, and he keeps my hand in his as he leads me to the kitchen. ‘Don’t tell me you’re hungry,’ I tease, getting a look of feigned offence in response. He ate every last crumb on both of our plates and shared my nuggets with me in the car – the boy can eat but I’ll be shocked if he has any more room.

‘I’m thirsty,’ he says, letting go of my hand to get a glass out of the cupboard, about to pour himself some water. ‘Let’s have some wine,’ I say suddenly, Mason raising an amused eyebrow at me. ‘I have to drive home, and I’ve already at the limit with that champagne,’ he reminds me. ‘You can stay the night. I have a couple guest bedrooms you can choose from,’ I say quietly, his gaze warm on my skin as his grin grows.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, and I nod, struggling to keep eye contact with him, the butterflies in my stomach going wild. I wasn’t even propositioning him – I just thought it’d be nice to finish the day with late night chats over a glass of wine, not a quiet and empty house. ‘Okay, I’ll have some wine.’ ‘Which one do you want?’ I ask, opening my wine cupboard and moving aside to show him. ‘I want the one in the living room,’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Living room?’ ‘Yeah. There’s a bottle of wine in your living room,’ he repeats, and I frown. ‘What? Where?’ I ask, heading towards the living room.

I gasp when I spot the presents on the coffee table, looking back at Mason who grins at me. ‘You didn’t think I just got you flowers and chocolate, did you?’ he asks, looking very proud of himself, and I rush into the living room excitedly, wanting to see my gifts. I take a couple photos first, knowing I’ll want to remember this moment, and he just watches on with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Which one shall I open first?’ I ask, and he points to the bottle bag amusedly, both of us already knowing what it is after what he said.

I get through the gifts pretty quickly in my excitement, tearing the co-ordinated pink wrapping paper and being careful not to drop the confetti and the glitter in each gift bag on the floor. Every single gift is so me; the rosé wine, the pink crystal butterfly hairclips, the signed Summer Walker vinyls, the Huda Beauty pink eyeshadow palette, the pink lego flowers set and the dusty pink knee-high boots with my name printed on the soles. I never realised he knew me so well, but every single gift is perfect. The boots are even my size!

‘One left,’ he says, handing me a pink velvet jewellery box, and my eyes fill with tears before I even open it. ‘y/n, don’t cry!’ he exclaims, alarmed, and I blink back the tears quickly, opening the box with shaking hands. I gasp at the set inside, a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide. ‘It’s called pink sapphire, which I didn’t even know was a thing but, apparently, it is. It’s also custom so I can’t really return it, but I’ll just, like, give it to a charity auction or something if you don’t like it,’ he says, obviously nervous, and I shake my head.

‘I love it, Mason. It’s so beautiful,’ I whisper, already enamoured with the pink sapphire stones set into the pendant on the silver necklace, the silver tennis bracelet and the silver hoops. ‘That’s good then,’ he says, actually letting out a sigh of relief before he helps me put it all on, watching with an affectionate smile as I admire myself in my front camera.

‘This is all too much, Mason. It must have cost you a bomb,’ I say, and he waves off my concerns. ‘It’s fine. I fucked up your birthday so this is the least I could do,’ he says lightly, trying to sound casual, and I try not to laugh at the reminder of the half-dead bouquet of flowers and box of Thorntons chocolates he got for my birthday (I’m not one to sneer at Thorntons – chocolate is chocolate – but it was a Christmas box that was out of date by three years).

‘Well, I got you something too, but don’t get your hopes up too much. They’re not as good as what you’ve got me,’ I warn him, getting up and getting the gift box I hid in the corner of the room, a big grin on his face. Despite my warning, I already know he’s gonna love everything I’ve got him – I’m a very good gift buyer and I’ve been planning this for a while. I may or may not have also put in minimal effort for his birthday and felt bad about it, so I’m trying to make up for it with this.

He looks very happy with the black tracksuit I got from some streetwear brand that him and his friends are all obsessed with, and he’s even happier with the custom silver chain I got from one of my jeweller friends. But his favourite is the blue Van Cleef bracelet, even before he spots the letters of his name engraved on the inside of each clover.

‘You’re sweet,’ he grins, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head, a warm feeling flooding through my body, my heart singing. ‘I’ll get some glasses for the wine,’ I say, rushing back into the kitchen and taking a few seconds to compose myself, staring at my reflection in the fridge.

I’m supposed to hate Mason, or strongly dislike him anyway. But we’ve been getting along, and maybe I don’t dislike him after having such a romantic day with him. Maybe I actually like him a little bit, even more after getting all those thoughtful gifts from him. And maybe he likes me as well. He knows me well, at least, and cared enough to plan a day he knew I’d love and buy me perfect gifts. And now we’re about to sit alone in my living room, drinking rosé wine late at night. This probably isn’t a good idea, but the desire pulsing through my body pushes the hesitation out of my mind.

I bring two wine glasses back into the living room, Mason popping the bottle open and pouring us two half glasses. We clink our glasses together and both take a sip before Mason lifts my legs across his lap, both of us comfortable on the sofa. I sip on my wine as Mason scrolls through Netflix to find something for us to watch, not able to settle on anything. I’m not at all helpful either – I’d much rather sit here and talk to him so I just keep making noncommittal noises when he asks what I want to watch.

‘I’ll put music on instead,’ he says, opening Spotify and clicking on My Mix, the playlist starting with Summer Walker. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he chuckles, putting down the remote and finishing off his wine. ‘Aren’t you gonna complain and try to turn it off like usual?’ I ask, and he shrugs with a rueful smile. ‘Maybe her music’s growing on me,’ he admits, and I gasp excitedly. ‘Good! I’ll send you recommendations, and then you can start listening to SZA and Jhene after,’ I say, knowing it’ll annoy him if I make a big deal out of this, and he groans with a roll of his eyes, making me laugh.

‘I’m joking.’ ‘I know, but it’s even more annoying because I’ve already got SZA and Jhene on my Spotify because of you. All of your stuff is growing on me. RnB, The Vault, 90s romcoms, wine and champagne. I even like the colour pink now,’ he says lightly, one finger gently running across the thin strap of my dress, my shoulder tingling in the wake of his touch.

‘I’ve started liking your stuff too. I go to your football matches, and I actually enjoy watching them. I’ve started going to the weird bars you like, full of white people who think they’re cool. I listen to your favourite American rappers. And maybe the colour blue isn’t so bad,’ I say quietly, a little grin on his face.

‘It’s not a surprise, though. We’ve been seeing each other at least once a week since this relationship started nearly 11 months ago. That’s a lot of time to spend with someone. We were bound to rub off on each other,’ he says, and I nod in agreement. As much as we argue and haven’t been getting along for the majority of this relationship, our lives are so intertwined now. It feels wrong to say our relationship’s fake because we behave exactly like a couple. It’s more accurate to say it was a relationship without the feelings, but maybe that’s not even true anymore.

‘I never would’ve guessed you’d like romcoms though. Which ones are your favourites?’ I ask, and he thinks for a moment. ‘I like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’ ‘That’s only because you think Kate Hudson’s fit.’ ‘Says you, Matthew McConaughey’s biggest fan,’ he says pointedly, and I remain silent, knowing he’s right. ‘And I like 10 Things I Hate About You as well. But I think Clueless is my favourite,’ he grins, my heart melting. I’m the personification of the film Clueless, and we both know it.

‘Clueless, really? What do you like about Clueless?’ ‘I like Cher. She’s cute, stylish, funny, pretty, kind-hearted, and completely oblivious,’ he lists off, brushing my hair back with his hand, my heart fluttering. ‘Oblivious?’ ‘Well, maybe clueless is a better word,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes at the bad joke.

‘How is she clueless?’ ‘She’s so wrapped up in her own little world that those pretty brown eyes of hers can’t see how people feel about her,’ he says softly, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. ‘Cher’s eyes aren’t brown.’ ‘I’m not talking about Cher anymore, babe,’ he murmurs, our eyes locked together, my entire body alight with nerves. ‘What am I not seeing?’ I ask, his lips quirking up at the question. ‘You really can’t see how I feel about you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, heart hammering in my chest.

‘I tried my best not to feel any way about you, because I know you want a big romantic love-at-first-sight relationship and I didn’t wanna try and steal that away from you, but I can’t pretend anymore. Not after the nail shop last week. Sitting with a girl while she’s getting her nails done should be the most boring thing in the world, but I’d spend every day of my life feeding you jelly beans and macchiatos, and watching you smile at pink hearts on your nails. And I can’t even describe the feeling of seeing my initials and my number on your nails, your ring fingers. All I could think was that I want to put more than my number on this finger,’ he admits in a low voice, lifting my hand and touching my finger where I’d wear an engagement or wedding ring.

‘But I thought you hated me,’ I whisper, so overwhelmed by a trillion different emotions, and he lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at my hand in his. ‘I’ve never hated you, y/n. It was childish of me, I know, but we fell out at the start because you told me I couldn’t kiss you or touch you. If I hated you, why would I have a problem with that?’ he asks, and I could slap myself for not even thinking about that.

‘I thought you were just annoyed that you wouldn’t be able to kiss or touch anyone the whole time we’re together.’ ‘y/n, I’m not a sex addict or something. I can go without physical contact. It’s been difficult being around you so much and not being able to release my frustrations properly, but still,’ he says amusedly, and I feel my body warm up. With the combination of the wine and what he’s saying, I’ll end up letting him have his way with me tonight.

‘So you like me?’ I ask, and he laughs again. ‘That’s putting it a bit simply but, yeah. I do. I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,’ he says simply, complete honesty in his eyes, and I’m silent for a long few moments, mind working at a million miles an hour. ‘If you like me back, this would be a really good time to say that,’ he says amusedly, and I let out a little laugh.

‘I think I like you too.’ ‘You think?’ ‘I don’t… these feelings are really unfamiliar to me. I’ve only ever had schoolgirl crushes on guys. I’ve never felt this way before. I get this tight feeling in my chest when I look at you. I like being around you, even when we’re arguing. I love that people know me as your girlfriend, and I love that girls can look at you but they know they can’t have you because you’re my boyfriend. I think you’re annoying and cocky but I like that you’re annoying and cocky,’ I say, my admission making him laugh.

‘That probably means you like me.’ ‘Yeah, but then… I like wearing your hoodies and jackets because they smell like you, and I get this funny feeling in my stomach at your scent. I pretend to get annoyed at your dirty jokes but I get butterflies whenever you say them. I always wear tight and tiny outfits around you, even when it’s freezing, because I want you to want me. And I can’t think straight when I watch you play football and you’re all angry and sweaty. So I don’t think saying that I like you really covers how I feel,’ I breathe out, his eyes darkening, lips parted in surprise.

‘That’s… fuck. How can you be hot and cute at the same time?’ he asks faintly, and he moves the hand that isn’t holding mine to rest on my bare thigh, between the top of my sock and the bottom of my mini dress. ‘Hot and cute?’ ‘Babe, you just admitted you’re sexually attracted to me in the most innocent way possible,’ he chuckles, fingers tracing patterns across my skin, the area between my legs throbbing with need.

‘Because I don’t… I’ve obviously been attracted to people before but never like this. Never enough to want to act on it,’ I say, the realisation dawning on us both a moment later. ‘You wanna act on it?’ he asks with a little grin, tips of his fingers toying with the hem of my dress. ‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just scary,’ I whisper, and he laughs softly.

‘You don’t have to be scared. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do or don’t feel comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything at all. I don’t expect us to go upstairs to your room now that we’ve had this conversation. It’s a big step,’ he says gently, making me want him even more.

‘What if I did want to go upstairs to my room though?’ I ask, biting down on one of my nails nervously, his eyes zoning in on my lips. ‘You know I wouldn’t say no.’ ‘Yeah, but, like… tell me what you’d do,’ I prompt, a smile playing at his lips.

‘I’d take it slow. I’d kiss you first, for as long as possible because I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime. Then I’d undress you and kiss all over this perfect body. And then I’d put my fingers in you, nice and gentle so it doesn’t hurt, and I’d make it feel so good for you, babe. I’d stretch you out slow so I can hear all your pretty noises, and then I’d eat you out until you cum on my tongue. And then I’d fill you up with my cock bit by bit and I’d fuck you slow, babe. Have you moaning my name in my ear when you cum around me.’

By the end of his perfectly-woven story, my mind is completely blank and my underwear is soaked. It’s pretty much exactly what I’ve always wanted my first time to be like – the only thing missing from my fantasy is a view from the most expensive room at The Shard after a romantic dinner, but I wouldn’t trade my evening with Mason for that.

‘Okay,’ I whisper, Mason chuckling softly. ‘Yeah? Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod nervously, my stomach doing flips. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he says, hand rubbing my leg soothingly, and I nod, trying to calm myself down. ‘Let me kiss you first,’ he murmurs, my heart skipping a beat. What if I’m a horrendous kisser and he gets the ick? Or what if I accidently bite him? Does my breath smell?

‘y/n, relax. It’s just a kiss, babe. You have kissed someone before, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, his eyes widening in shock. ‘So I’m about to be your first kiss as well?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘That’s a lot of pressure, you know,’ he says with a small smile, lifting a hand to a lock of my hair, twirling it around his fingers. ‘It’s not. You could be a terrible kisser and I wouldn’t even know,’ I say, the boy laughing gently.

‘You’d be able to tell. Bad kissers are obvious.’ ‘And you’ve had your fair share of those?’ I ask, his gaze softening at the mild jealousy in my tone. The situation is obvious to both of us – he’s about to be my first everything, and I’m about to be just another in a long list for him. ‘I wouldn’t say fair share. A couple. But don’t think about them. I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about you only, babe,’ he whispers, our eyes locked together, and that’s all the reassurance I need.

‘Can I kiss you, y/n?’ he asks softly, and I nod, a small smile on his face. He begins to lean in, and my eyes flutter shut, my heart hammering in my chest as his lips gently brush against mine. He pulls back momentarily, as though he’s waiting to see if I’m still okay with it, and I feel myself leaning towards him, Mason letting out a chuckle as our lips meet again.

He slides his arms around me, lifting me up into his lap so he can pull me closer, his mouth pressing harder on mine, and I soften against him when he parts my lips with his.

It’s a tame and sweet kiss, one that makes the butterflies in my stomach melt into a puddle of want. His hands stay on my back, his lips gentle against mine, but I want more, need more from him. I adjust myself slightly on his lap, the movement making his breath catch in his throat, and the realisation that he’s getting hard beneath me only makes me even more desperate.

We break apart after a few moments, none of the panting and dark eyes I’d expect after a kiss, and I’m almost disappointed. I know he’s trying to be gentlemanly for my first time, but I don’t want him to be a gentleman now. I want him to do whatever he wants to me. I want him to enjoy this too.

‘Was that okay?’ he asks, and I nod after a split second of hesitation. He notices it, eyebrows furrowing in concern. ‘No, it wasn’t. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?’ he asks, and I shake my head, feeling embarrassed about being so desperate for him. ‘The last thing I want you to do is stop,’ I say quietly, the realisation on his face quickly followed by dark amusement.

‘What do you want me to do then, y/n?’ he grins, and I pout at him, hitting his chest lightly. ‘Don’t make me say it,’ I complain, the boy laughing. ‘How will I know if you don’t say it?’ ‘Mason.’ ‘y/n. You have to communicate with me, baby,’ he murmurs, eyes dark and big as he looks at me, and I let out a little sigh.

‘I want more. I don’t want you to hold back,’ I admit, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘It’s your first time.’ ‘I know, but I want you to enjoy this as well.’ ‘I enjoy anything with you, babe,’ he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Don’t lie. That kiss was cute for a first kiss, but it must have been boring for you. I don’t want to bore you, Mase.’ ‘You don’t bore me. Babe, we’ve got all night for not-boring kisses. I just wanted your first one to be the perfect kiss that you probably always dreamed about,’ he says, a smile finding my face at that. He’s cute.

‘I don’t… how do I say this?’ I mutter, so embarrassed at the thought of what I’m about to admit, and he just waits patiently for me to speak. ‘I always dreamed of romance, yes. But I dreamed of it for dates and my wedding and holidays with my boyfriend. It was never something I dreamed about in the bedroom,’ I say quietly, and he tilts his head questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The thought of romantic sex doesn’t…’ I trail off, the look in his eyes like he’s just stumbled across gold.

‘y/n, that’s… are you saying you’re into other things?’ he asks quietly, in complete shock, and I nod, feeling mortified at this conversation. ‘Like what?’ ‘Don’t make me say it, Mase,’ I whine, the boy laughing. ‘No, this is not what I expected from you at all. You have to say it otherwise I won’t believe it.’ ‘No, Mason. I can’t say it,’ I say firmly, knowing I’ll die of humiliation if he makes me say this out loud.

‘Fine, okay. I’ll ask then. Do you want it rough, y/n? Want me to use you to make myself feel good? Want me to kiss you and touch you and fuck you like a slut?’ he asks with a dark grin, my mind entering overdrive, my lack of response giving him the answer he was expecting. ‘My baby’s not so innocent after all then, is she?’ he asks lowly, hands tightening on my waist, pressing me down onto his lap. The friction makes me let out a soft sigh, his eyes darkening at the sound.

‘Fuck. This is… probably not a good idea. I can’t be rough with you for your first time. I don’t wanna hurt you.’ ‘You won’t. You’ll know better than I will what I can and can’t handle,’ I say quietly, and his lips quirk up amusedly. ‘You’ll be able to handle anything I give you, won’t you, baby?’ he murmurs, looking satisfied at the way I take a deep breath to pull myself together, my nod making him grin wider.

‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Good. Don’t want to have to punish you, do we, babe?’ he asks, and I feel my heartrate speed up at the mention of punishment. ‘You want to be punished? Such a dirty girl, y/n. Want me to spread you over my lap and slap your perfect ass until you’re crying?’ he asks lowly, and I struggle to hold his gaze, the thought of it making my core ache.

‘Mase, please.’ ‘Please what, babe?’ he asks, and I don’t even really know what I’m asking for. ‘Kiss me again,’ I ask, one of his hands snaking up to the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to him so our lips can meet again.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, the kiss making my mind focus on nothing but him. I never could’ve dreamed that kissing would feel this good, his lips enveloping my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. It’s passionate and deep and messy, and all I can’t think straight with his scent filling my senses, his soft hair between my fingers, and his hands sliding up and down my back.

His hands tighten at my waist again, guiding me to move forward on his lap, the movement making me let out a whimper against his lips. That must be his final straw because he breaks apart, both of us out of breath this time.

‘Am I a bad kisser?’ I ask, the boy laughing. ‘No, y/n. You’re perfect,’ he smiles, my heart fluttering. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I just need to grab something from my car,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘You’re not running away, are you?’ I ask suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘I’d have to either be gay or stupid if I decided to leave now,’ he says lightly, making me giggle. ‘I have condoms in my car. Unless you’ve got some?’ he asks, the situation suddenly feeling very real, my body humming with arousal.

‘I don’t. Do we need them though? I’m on birth control,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s not worth the risk. You’d probably be put off for life if you get pregnant from your first time,’ he says drily, making me laugh. ‘It’ll be fine.’ ‘Don’t tempt me, y/n. Seriously,’ he says warningly, and I gaze at him with big innocent eyes. ‘I wanna feel you though.’ ‘You will feel me, babe. You can’t even notice the condom,’ he says, trying to sound firm but I can tell he’s being swayed.

‘Fine, okay,’ I give in, the boy breathing a sigh of relief at me not trying to persuade him anymore. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I’ll be up in a minute,’ he says as I get off him, the boy following me out of the room. He slaps my ass lightly as I take the first step, and I can’t help but giggle to myself as I head upstairs.

I enter my bedroom, putting on some music through my speaker before tidying away all the stuff I left out while I was getting ready earlier. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs as I’m putting my straighteners away in my bathroom drawer, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement, the latter just about outweighing the former.

I step back into the bedroom to see him entering the room too, a smile on his face when he meets my eyes. ‘Are you still sure you wanna do this?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. Yes, this is scary, but I’m ready. I don’t want my first time to be with anyone but him. ‘Come here then,’ he grins, holding out a hand to me, and I cross the room to take it, letting him pull me against him.

Our lips meet in another pulse-racing kiss, his hands trailing all over my body as I grip onto his strong shoulders before snaking my hands up to tangle my fingers into his hair. My skin tingles in the wake of his touch, his needy hands squeezing my ass, pressing into my waist, sliding across my back, running through my hair.

His tongue slides across mine as he slips his fingers beneath the hem of my dress, slow on their journey up my legs, bringing my dress up with them. ‘Can I take this off you?’ he asks against my lips, and I hum out my permission. He doesn’t waste any more time, his fingers slipping the straps off my shoulders and pushing the material down my body, the dress landing in a pool at my feet.

He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the bed, putting me down gently. He looks down at me, pupils impossibly wide and dark as they trawl over my body, clad in just a lacy pink bra, matching pants and my thigh high white socks with little pink bows on them. I take the opportunity to admire him too. He’s in a pair of loose jeans and a soft blue jumper, a silver chain tucked into it. His hair’s all fluffy from me running my hands through it, and he looks more handsome than he’s ever looked in his life.

‘You’re so beautiful, y/n,’ he murmurs, climbing over me and capturing my lips in another kiss. He breaks the kiss quickly though, moving to press kisses along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches my collarbone, I realise he’s kissing all over my body like he said he was going to. ‘Can I?’ he asks, hands slipping beneath my back, fingers on the clasp on my bra, and I nod. He expertly pops the clasp open, helping pull the straps down my arms.

‘I’ve always loved your boobs,’ he admits, my laugh cut off by a gasp when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, the other breast in his hand, fingers roughly gripping the flesh. He switches to the other nipple, rolling the first between his fingers so as not to neglect it, and I feel my back arch at the sudden pleasurable shocks.

‘Does that feel good?’ he asks, words muffled by how they’re spoken around my nipple. ‘Mmm, so good,’ I whimper as he gropes and sucks on my boobs like a teen boy. I’d laugh if my mind wasn’t distracted with the intense pleasure.

He continues kissing down my stomach and, to my surprise, he leaves my pants on and skips the area entirely, kissing my thighs until he reaches the tops of my socks. ‘These fucking socks,’ he murmurs, pulling one of them away from my leg before letting go of it, the material slapping back against my skin. ‘You like them?’ ‘I fucking love them, baby. You look like such a cute little slut in them,’ he grins as he pushes my legs apart. I expect his eyes to focus in on my clothed core but he keeps his eyes on mine, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, little tingles running through me at the feeling of his lips somewhere so intimate.

‘Turn over for me, babe,’ he prompts and I do as he says, lying on my stomach. He moves my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck before moving down the line in the middle of my back. His journey to the dip just before my ass is slow, my heart suspended in anticipation. When he reaches my ass, he gently nips at one cheek before pressing soothing kisses in the same place, a blissful sigh escaping my lips.

The sound seems to knock him out a reverie, the boy turning me onto my back and hovering over me to kiss me again. He keeps himself elevated leaning on one forearm, the other hand pressing into the curve of my waist. I let my hands rest on either side of his face, his beard soft against my skin as our lips move in sync, tongues clashing messily. Nothing about this kiss meets the expectations for a first time, but it’s exactly what I want.

He turns us over, my body weight resting on top of his, and his hands instantly slide down to my ass, gripping it tightly before slapping it, the sound loud in the room. I giggle into our kiss, his lips curling up at the sound as he brings his hands up my body, a shiver running through me at the feeling of his fingers gliding across my bare skin.

I break apart from him after a moment, sitting just below his stomach with my legs straddling him. He looks up at me in awe, trying his best not to stare at my bare chest right in front of him. I slip my fingers beneath his jumper, feeling his warm skin, and he sits up so I can take it off him, bringing up the t-shirt underneath with it, leaving his top half bare. I’ve seen him shirtless a couple times but never so close like this, and I let my hands explore his torso, up and down over the contours of his muscles.

‘My girls would kill me if they knew we were doing this,’ I admit distractedly, eyes focused on his abs. ‘Why? Because they hate me?’ he asks, leaning back on his elbows with a cocky grin, and I let out a little laugh. ‘Why do you get such a kick out of the fact my friends hate you?’ ‘Because they’re the closest people to you, and they’re probably always telling you that I’m not shit and you need to get your agent to end the relationship, but look at us,’ he says proudly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Well, that’s not the only reason they’d kill me.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘They’re always telling me I should sell my virginity,’ I tell him, tracing my nails over the lines of his abs. ‘Sell it? You’re not a prostitute.’ ‘I know, but I could get a good few million for it from some rich middle-aged business man,’ I say, and he just raises an eyebrow.

‘We could make a few million other ways,’ he murmurs, hands resting on my waist. ‘How?’ ‘We could make a porno,’ he grins, my core pulsing at the thought. ‘A porno?’ ‘Yeah. Your pretty face and pretty body and pretty noises in a sextape would make us more than a few millions. And I bet your pretty tits, pretty ass and pretty pussy would make us billions, baby,’ he smirks, pulling me close for another kiss, arousal flooding through my body. He hasn’t even seen me fully naked yet but he’s so firm about the attractiveness of my body – it definitely gives me a confidence boost.

The aching between my legs is too much, and I find myself pressing down onto him to relieve it. He tenses beneath me, clearly just as worked up as me with the way he grips onto my hips, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us breathless. Gentle waves of pleasure roll through my body, my lips letting out quiet sighs against his mouth.

‘Does that feel good, babe?’ he asks, breaking away from me and kissing along my jaw. I let out an ‘mmm’ sound which he takes as an answer, lips lifting up into a grin against my skin before he nips at it, the pleasurable pain making me whimper. ‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mumbles into my neck, still rocking my body against his.

‘Can I ask you something? A personal question?’ he asks, and I sit up after a moment, feeling nervous as I nod. ‘What have you actually done? Sexually? Because I know you’re a virgin but I’d assumed that you’d kissed someone before, so maybe my assumptions are all wrong,’ he says, and a small smile finds my lips at the question.

‘I haven’t done anything. You’re the first person to kiss me and touch me and see me like this,’ I say, a tiny smirk on his face. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What about what you’ve done? Have you ever touched yourself, babe?’ he asks, and I avoid his gaze, feeling a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest. ‘I tried, once.’ ‘Why only once?’ ‘It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like anything, really. So I just never tried again,’ I admit, the boy grinning.

‘So you’ve never had an orgasm before?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Good. I’ll make your first one amazing, babe, I promise,’ he murmurs, pulling me down for a brief kiss before lifting me off him. He gets up off the bed, about to take his jeans off, but I grab his hands to stop him.

‘Let me,’ I breathe out, kneeling at the edge of the bed and looking up at him as I flick his jeans button open. He watches how I pull the zip down before bunching the material in my hands, slowly pulling it down his legs, leaving him in just his Calvin Kleins, his boner right in front of my face. My curiosity gets the best of me and I palm his cock through his boxers, the groan he lets out making my pants flood.

‘Fuck, baby, don’t. I’m gonna end up cumming in my fucking boxers like I’m the virgin here,’ he warns me, making me laugh. He moves my pillows aside, sitting at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he pats the bed between his legs, motioning for me to sit there. I crawl up the bed, sitting with my back against his front, my body enveloped by his.

I rest my hands on his thighs as he snakes his arms around me, his lips landing on my neck. I tilt my head to allow him better access, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his kisses, and his hands slide down my stomach and under my legs. He pulls my legs up to bend at the knees before slipping his hands between my thighs, parting them.

‘Shall we come up with a safe word for you, babe?’ he asks against my skin, and I nod. ‘Think of one,’ he prompts, and I wrack my brains. ‘Clueless?’ I suggest, the boy chuckling, his warm breath fanning across my bare shoulder. ‘So you’ll say ‘clueless’ if you need me to stop, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Good girl,’ he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

‘Make sure you tell me if you want me to stop,’ he reminds me as his hand slips down between my legs, fingertips gliding across my saturated underwear, making me shiver in his arms. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet, babe,’ he whispers, my breaths already becoming shaky with his finger gently running up and down my pants. He doesn’t waste much time before sliding his hand beneath my underwear, ending his teasing quickly which I’m grateful for. His fingers glide lightly across my wet folds and he quickly finds my clit, fingers pressing against the bud. I let out a high-pitched whimper, head falling back against him and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’ he asks as he rubs at my clit in slow circles, and I nod, exhilaration filling me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, my body humming with desire and pleasure, soft breaths escaping my lips.

He pulls my pants aside to exposing my glistening core to the cool air of the room, a shudder running through me. ‘Ready?’ he murmurs, and I nod. He slides a finger in slowly, my body reacting to the unfamiliar intrusion by clenching my walls around him, and he doesn’t move at all for a few moments, letting me getting used to the unusual feeling.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, pressing soothing kisses to my neck again, and I shake my head. ‘Just feels a bit weird,’ I reply, feeling his laugh against my skin. ‘You’re so tight, baby. Can’t wait to stretch you out, make you feel so good, y/n,’ he whispers, starting to slowly move his finger back and forth.  

The feeling soon starts to become pleasurable rather than weird, my walls not clenching as hard around his finger, and he takes advantage of it, sliding in another finger with the first.

‘Mase,’ I whisper softly. ‘Too much?’ he asks, and I give my body a few moments to get used to the feeling before shaking my head. ‘Such a good girl for me, babe,’ he murmurs, slowly thrusting his fingers into me, letting my body get accustomed to the burning stretch. My eyes fall shut, arousal gushing out onto his hand, causing faint wet sounds that make my skin heat up.

‘Feels good?’ ‘So good,’ I whimper softly, nails digging into his strong thighs as he curls his fingers inside me. The intense pleasure makes me clamp my thighs shut around his hand, the boy chuckling softly. ‘You can take it, babe, come on,’ he says soothingly as he pushes my legs apart again, hooking one leg with his own to keep it restrained from meeting the other.

‘You’re so sensitive, baby,’ he says amusedly, curling his fingers again and brushing a spot inside me that makes me whine pathetically. And then he begins to rub his palm against my clit with each movement of his hand, my head falling back onto his shoulder and my back arching, a quiet moan escaping my lips.

My body squirms between his legs, but he holds me firmly in place and keeps my legs apart, fingers continuing to thrust into me at a gradually quickening pace, whine after whimper slipping out from my lips as Mason whispers filth into my ear, making me lose my mind.

‘Look at you, babe. Grinding on my hand. Does it feel good, baby?’ he asks cockily and, sure enough, when I force myself to open my eyes, I see that I’m grinding against his fingers unconsciously, each movement of my hips resulting in his hand brushing my clit and sending a gentle wave of pleasure through me.

‘So good, Mase,’ I moan softly, the boy cursing at the sound, kissing and biting at my neck to leave marks, making my eyes flutter shut once again. ‘You sound so pretty for me, babe. So pretty. Gonna make you feel so good,’ he whispers against my skin, but the words barely register, my focus on the unfamiliar feeling of my stomach tightening.

‘Mase, I think I’m close,’ I say breathlessly, and he lets out a gentle laugh against my neck. ‘I know, babe, I can feel it.’ ‘I didn’t think… girls really cum from their first time,’ I say, words broken up with a moan prompted from his fingers spreading apart to open me up. ‘Girls don’t cum from their first time if the person they’re with is shit as sex. Lucky for you…’ he grins against my skin, thumb pressing onto my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘Fuck, I need to taste you,’ he says, sliding his fingers out of me and lifting them to his mouth, licking my arousal off his skin. ‘Mmm, you taste so good,’ he says appreciatively, satisfaction filling me. I’m glad to hear my vagina’s to his taste.

‘Lie back for me, babe,’ he says gently as he gets up, moving to lie on his stomach further down the bed. I rest my head on one of the pillows, looking down at him as his hands slide up my legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of my pants. ‘Can I?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slowly pulling the material down my legs before throwing it over his shoulder.

He pushes my legs apart slowly, revealing my soaking wet core to him, and his lips part in disbelief, eyes darkening as they focus between my legs. ‘Fuck. Such a pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me,’ he murmurs, collecting up my wetness with two fingers, the contact making me clench. He lifts his fingers to my lips this time, and I open my mouth, taking in his fingers and tasting myself on them.

‘Doesn’t your pussy taste so good, babe?’ he grins as I lick his fingers clean of my own arousal, and I nod, feeling even wetter at how dirty he is. ‘Could eat you all night,’ he says, wrapping his arms around my legs to lift them over his shoulders, pulling me close so his face is mere millimetres from my core.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he presses his tongue flat against my folds before swiping it upwards, a soft moan escaping my lips. He starts with slow and gentle licks across my folds, the steady stimulation making my brain fuzzy with pleasure, but he can’t keep himself controlled for very long. He pushes his finger into me again, my walls clamping down at the suddenness of it as I gasp, the slight pain soothed by his tongue flicking across my clit.

The sensation is so foreign but so good – he alternates between thrusting a finger into me whilst sucking at my clit, and poking his tongue between my folds whilst drawing slow circles on my clit with his thumb. I grip onto his locks, my high-pitched whimpers becoming more frequent, and I can’t decide whether I want to pull him closer or push him away, not sure whether it’s not enough or too much.

He decides for me, pulling me so close I’m surprised he can breathe. He begins practically making out with my pussy, the loud slurping sounds so obscene and crude that it only makes me wetter, my moans more and more desperate with every movement of his lips. His nose nuzzles against my clit as he eats me out, the irregular waves of pleasure sending my body into overdrive, the knot getting tighter and tighter as I squirm beneath him. He tries to keep me still with one forearm pressed down across my stomach, the other hand squeezing my boob and tugging gently at my nipple.

‘I’m think I’m gonna…’ I breathe out between moans, clenching sporadically as my body twitches, and I can feel him grinning against my folds. He replaces his mouth with two fingers pushing into me, thrusting into me fast and hard.

‘Gonna cum for me, y/n? It’s gonna feel so good, baby, just let go. Cum for me, babe,’ he murmurs softly, voice just about discernible over my loud moaning, and when he flicks his tongue across my clit before sucking it into his mouth as he curls his fingers inside me, I feel the knot in my stomach undo itself.

I cry out his name as my vision blurs, walls clenching around his fingers and holding them in place with an iron-like grip, thighs closing around his head. He works me through my orgasm with sucking gently on my clit, his free hand groping my boob, providing me with a gentle bliss in comparison to the intense pleasure burning low in my stomach.

When I feel myself coming back down from my high, I let out a sigh, body relaxing into the bed, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of me, a shiver racking through me. I just about manage to lift my head to watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, slipping the fingers covered in my cum between his lips, eyes closing as he lets out an appreciative groan.

‘You did so good for me, babe. Such a good girl, took it so well for me,’ he praises as he moves back up the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his body. I feel something very stiff poking into my hip, getting wet again already at how hard he is.

‘How did that feel?’ he asks with his lips pressed against my forehead. ‘Good.’ ‘Just good?’ he chuckles, and I laugh. ‘Yeah. I’d be exaggerating if I said anything else,’ I joke, and he tilts my head up so our eyes meet, his eyebrow raising. ‘Your moaning said otherwise, babe,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. He starts mocking my sounds and I hit him gently, hiding my head in his shoulder out of embarrassment.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It was sexy, y/n. Nothing’s ever turned me on more. You can feel the proof of that,’ he says drily, and I laugh softly, looking down at the tent in his Calvins. The thought that I caused that gives me a little thrill. I trace my finger down his v-line slowly, stopping when I reach the waistband of his underwear.

‘Can I?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he nods with a small grin. I slip my hand beneath the waistband, taking his cock into my hand, the thick and heavy weight so unfamiliar to me. I gently tug on it out of curiosity, watching his face for his reaction, and his eyes flutter shut, veins protruding from his neck. I move my hand up to the tip, feeling pre-cum leaking out, and I lift my hand to my mouth to taste it, the boy watching me with dark eyes.

‘Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, babe,’ he murmurs as the subtly salty taste coats my tongue. ‘Tastes bad, doesn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, and I laugh. ‘Not bad. Just… not good either,’ I admit, the boy chuckling. ‘I’ll start drinking pineapple juice every day, just for you,’ he promises with a grin, and I clutch my heart, pretending I’m honoured.

‘How long’s it been since you last had sex?’ I ask after a few seconds of silence, my fingertips tracing his muscles again. ‘Since before our relationship started. Probably a couple days before we signed the contract. I don’t remember exactly,’ he admits, and I nod, processing the information.

‘So you must be really worked up then,’ I say, looking up at him, and he laughs softly. ‘I’m worked up, but it’s because you’re lying next to me naked and looking at me with your big eyes,’ he says with a small smile. ‘Surely the amount of time has an effect as well?’ ‘Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve… been frustrated for 11 months,’ he says, and I realise belatedly what he means.

‘Oh. You mean you’ve masturbated?’ I ask, the boy laughing, probably at how innocent of a question it was. I should’ve known really – he wouldn’t have gone nearly a year without an orgasm. ‘Yes, babe, I have. Regularly. It’s good for you,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘That’s why you do it?’ ‘Well… no.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘The reason anyone masturbates. To keep myself… satisfied when I’m frustrated but can’t get any,’ he says, and I don’t reply for a few moments.

‘Do you watch porn when you do it?’ I ask out of curiosity, an amused smile on his lips at my innocent questioning. ‘Sometimes.’ ‘Why only sometimes?’ I ask, and he hesitates to speak. ‘My answer might make you uncomfortable.’ ‘It won’t,’ I say firmly, part of me already knowing what he’s going to say, desperate to hear it out loud.

‘The other times, I think of you. I’d go home hard almost every time I saw you, whether it was our good days or our bad days. Making you happy turns me on. Arguing with you turns me on. You smiling at me, rolling your eyes at me, saying my name nicely or not-so-nicely. All of it turns me on. Every single thing about you is so sexy to me, y/n, and just being in your presence makes me want you so much,’ he says quietly, my entire body burning with longing for him, satisfaction settling in my heart at hearing how much he’s attracted to me.

‘If you had to name one thing about me that turns you on the most, what would it be? Just for future reference,’ I say, unable to hold back my smile, and he laughs, the smile on his face so beautiful that my heart aches. ‘I can’t name one thing, babe. It’s everything about you. But… I do love seeing you in a Chelsea shirt with my name on the back,’ he admits, and I wait for him to elaborate.

‘I’m possessive, so I love seeing my name on you and knowing that any guy that looks at you will see it. They can look at how beautiful you are, but they can’t touch because you’re mine,’ he says, my butterflies going wild at hearing him claim me. ‘And I’d think of fucking you from behind while you’re wearing it and seeing my name on your back,’ he adds on shamelessly, my stomach turning with desire. Now that he’s said it, I want him to do just that after his next match.

‘Sorry. That was too much,’ he says, thinking I’m silent because I’m uncomfortable, and I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t. It makes me feel good that you want me,’ I say, a small grin on his lips. ‘Seems like I’m good at making you feel good,’ he smirks, the double entendre not going unnoticed, and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

‘You’re far too confident for a guy that hasn’t actually fucked me yet,’ I say pointedly, his eyes widening. ‘You really don’t want a gentleman, do you? I was just giving you a chance to recover from your first ever orgasm before I give you another one,’ he mutters amusedly. ‘Wasn’t much to recover from,’ I joke, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Your thighs trying to crush my head said different, babe. So did your pussy trying to break my finger,’ he reminds me, and I fall silent, not able to come up with a retort.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he chuckles, getting up from the bed and picking up his jeans. I panic for a second, thinking he’s about to go, but he just gets a condom out of the pocket. ‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you, babe? You can tell me if you’re tired or not ready or you just don’t want to,’ he says softly, and I shake my head. ‘I still want you, Mase,’ I say quietly, crawling to the edge of the bed beside where he stands, taking one of his hands into mine and pulling him close.

‘But I want you raw,’ I whisper, taking the condom out of his hand, and he lets out a little sigh. ‘y/n-’ ‘Please. I want you to cum in me,’ I say softly, looking up at him through my lashes, and he groans. ‘Fuck, y/n, don’t say that.’ ‘It’s true, though. I want it in me, not in a condom.’

‘And what if you get pregnant?’ ‘I won’t, I’m on the pill!’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Is it 100% effective?’ ‘Well… no, but Isla and Steph are both on it and they’ve never gotten pregnant,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘So just because they have sex without condoms, you want to as well?’ ‘No, I want to because I want to feel you, without anything separating us, and I want you to cum inside me,’ I say, and he looks skywards like he needs help from God to have this conversation with me.

‘If you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But-’ ‘No, I want to. I just don’t want to risk anything happening to you,’ he murmurs, lifting a hand to caress my face gently. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m consistent with the pill, so I won’t get pregnant. And you’re clean, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘So it’s gonna be fine then. Please, Masey,’ I say with a pout, and he finally gives in.

‘Okay, fine. If my dirty girl wants it raw, that’s what she’ll get,’ he grins, my core throbbing at the thought of him cumming inside me. ‘Lie back for me,’ he instructs and I do as he says, on full display for him, his eyes trawling over my body appreciatively. ‘You’re so perfect, baby,’ he praises, taking his boxers off, and my heart pounds at the sight of him stood there in all his glory. Flawlessly toned body, dark ink on fair skin, and a cock that makes my pussy wet.

‘That’s… not gonna fit in me,’ I breathe out, the boy laughing as he climbs over me, his lips meeting mine in soft kiss. ‘It will, babe.’ ‘Will it hurt?’ I ask nervously, and he doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘Maybe. But we’ll go slowly, and I’ll stop if you ask me to. Okay?’ he murmurs, and I nod, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself.

He kisses me again, turning us over so my body weight rests entirely on him, his hands trailing up and down my body. We both gradually get more and more worked up, moaning against each other’s mouths, our hands fervent and desperate on each other. My core is impossibly wet, my arousal soaking his skin too, and when he reaches a hand between my legs, slipping his finger between my folds, a pornographic moan escapes my lips, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘You’re definitely wet enough. Are you still sure you want this?’ ‘Yes, Mase, please. Need you to fuck me,’ I murmur against his neck, the boy wasting no time in turning us over, on his knees between my legs. He runs the tip up and down my folds, soaking his cock in my arousal, and my walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside.

‘What’s your safe word?’ he tests me. ‘Clueless.’ ‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, the praise making me smile to myself, and I watch as he pumps his cock a couple times, his eyes fluttering shut at the stimulation. He’s so fucking sexy – just the sight of him like this makes me feel like I could cum.

‘Legs around my waist, babe,’ he says as he moves to hover over me, and I wrap my legs around him, hooking them together at the ankles. ‘Ready?’ he asks, and I nod, heart warm at the gentle kiss he presses to my lips.

I feel the head of his cock running along my folds again before he starts to push inside me. The pain of the stretch catches me off guard – I didn’t expect it to hurt like this – and I gasp, my entire body tensing. ‘Hurts?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I squeak out, gripping on to his shoulders, and he leans down to press comforting kisses to my jaw. ‘Shall I stop?’ he asks against my skin, and I shake my head. It hurts but I still want him.

‘The tip’s usually the worst bit and that’s nearly in. You’re doing so well,’ he whispers soothingly, pushing further in bit by bit, the pain throbbing between my legs. He keeps whispering praise and encouragement in my ear, telling me I’m taking him so well and I’m being such a good girl for him, and it makes me even wetter, letting him push in all the way with less and less pain.

‘Well done, babe, you did so well,’ he says softly once he’s all the way in, kissing me sweetly as my body tries to get used to the unfamiliar intrusion. Despite my best efforts to keep my body relaxed, my walls keep clenching around him, as though they’re trying to force him out.

‘I know you don’t mean to, but- fuck. Your clenching is not doing me any favours,’ he murmurs with his head buried in my neck, and I try my best to stop, feeling bad for him. He hasn’t had sex for almost a year and now that he’s finally in me, he’s staying still so he can let me adjust. This is probably torture for him.

‘You know you’re the first girl that I’ve not used a condom with?’ he says against my skin, my heart singing at the news that I am one of his firsts after all. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah. And I hope to God that you decide to keep me around after tonight, because I cannot go back to condoms after being in you raw and you’re the only person I trust to fuck without one,’ he admits, the butterflies going wild again.

‘Of course I’m gonna keep you around. Our contract doesn’t expire for another month yet,’ I joke, the boy laughing against my neck, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘What about after that? Will you sign the renewal?’ ‘Will you?’ I ask, wanting to hear his answer first. ‘I’d rather have a real relationship with you instead,’ he says, a happy sigh escaping my lips, the sound making him laugh.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asks, and I realise that the conversation distracted me from the uncomfortable feeling from before. Now my body’s already become accustomed to him inside me. It doesn’t hurt anymore – I just feel full.

‘I feel okay. You can move now,’ I say, and he lifts his head up to meet my eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm. I’m ready,’ I breathe out, kissing him again. ‘I’m warning you, though, babe. I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.’ ‘That’s okay, Mase.’ ‘No, but seriously. I might cum before you.’ ‘It’s fine, Mason, don’t worry. I’m not gonna get pissed off at you for cumming first,’ I laugh, the boy nodding with a small smile.

He starts moving, slowly pulling partway out before pushing back in gently, both of us sharply intaking breath at the feeling. It’s weird at first, and a little bit painful, but as his pace becomes more steady and his thrusts become more forceful, the pain ebbs away into pleasure.

‘Does it feel good?’ ‘Feels so good, Mase,’ I whimper, his skin so hot against mine, hands pressing into the bed on either side of my head. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight, babe,’ he curses, and it really does feel like he’s just about fitting in me, cock dragging against my walls and sending blissful waves of pleasure through me.

I can feel the way he’s restraining himself from pounding into me the way he must want to, instead rolling his hips against mine in slow and shallow thrusts, body moving against my clit, making me clench around him unintentionally.

‘Babe, you really need to stop clenching before I cum,’ he warns me, and I widen my eyes innocently. ‘I’m not doing it on purpose, Mase. I can’t help it. Just love how you feel inside me,’ I murmur, the boy groaning as his dick twitches.

‘Fuck, I’m so close,’ he murmurs, the whiny tone of his voice making me gush around him, and I decide I need him to cum in me right now. I dig my heels into his back as he thrusts into me, keeping him buried deep inside, and I clench around him, pulling his head down so I can whisper in his ear.

‘Cum for me, Mase. Wanna feel your cum in me,’ I breathe out against his ear, and it pushes him over the edge, the boy letting out a moan into my neck as he hits his high, his cock pulsing in me as he cums, his release deep in me. He lets out heavy breaths and gentle grunts, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to my lips once he’s done.

‘I’ve never cum that quick in my life.’ ‘Yeah, right. Starting to think you’re a two-pump chump,’ I tease, his mouth dropping open. ‘It’s nearly been a year-’ ‘I know, I’m joking,’ I laugh, kissing him again. We’ve kissed so many times tonight but every single one feels like a first kiss, filling my body with so much happiness.

‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘It hurt a bit at the start but then it felt good,’ I say shyly, Mason grinning. I can feel his cock softening inside me, not stretching me out so much now. ‘If you ever let me fuck you again, I promise I’ll make you cum first,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Well, as it stands, there’s not much making me want to sleep with you again,’ I joke, Mason rolling his eyes.

‘You’re never gonna move on from this, are you?’ ‘Nope. You’ll be hearing about it for the rest of your life.’ ‘Rest of my life? Who says I wanna keep you around that long?’ ‘Things in your life clearly don’t last very long then,’ I fire back, Mason bursting into laughter, prompting me to laugh too. Sex always felt so scary to me, so serious and real, but this has been perfect, with all the laughing and joking and tenderness.

‘You still want me to fuck you?’ ‘Can you?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll get hard again in a couple minutes.’ ‘That quickly?’ I ask in surprise, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m in bed with the sexiest girl on Earth, and she’s naked and has my cock in her. I’m surprised I’m not already hard again,’ he says as though it’s obvious, my heart melting at hearing him compliment me again. I don’t think I’ll ever doubt myself again after this.

‘I do still want you to fuck me. I… don’t want today to be over yet. It’s been perfect,’ I say, the boy smiling softly. ‘I’d make every single day like this for you if you asked for it,’ he says, and even though it’d never be possible, he says it with complete sincerity, as though he really would want to. ‘You don’t have to take me on the best date ever and buy me lavish presents every day. But this part would be nice to do every day,’ I say coyly, Mason laughing gently.

‘Okay, babe. I’ll fuck you every day if that’s what you want,’ he promises me, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought of him coming home to me waiting for him to fuck me. ‘Is that what my dirty girl wants?’ he asks, hand tightening on my jaw, holding my head in place so he can stare deep into my eyes, and I just about manage to nod in his tight grip. He’s giving me whiplash with the way he’s switching the mood.

‘Want me to come home to you and fuck you after you’ve been waiting all day? Because you know I would, baby. If you’re in the kitchen baking me something sweet, I’ll lie you across the counter and eat something even sweeter. If you’re watching TV in the living room, I’ll slip my fingers into your pants and make you cum all over my hand like a good little slut. If you’re in the dance studio, I’ll bend you over in front of the mirror so you can watch how pretty you look with my cock in you. If you’re recording, I’ll sit you on my cock and record all your pretty moans so you can listen to them when I’m away and remember how good I make you feel. I’ll fuck you after my matches and after your shows when we’re both all worked up and desperate for each other. I’ll fuck you with my fingers in the car after our dates, and then I’ll flip up your skirt as soon as we’re inside and fuck you against the front door. I’m yours now, babe, and you can have me whenever and wherever,’ he says lowly as he kisses along my jaw, his words making me moan softly. The thought of having him in all those different ways sends a fresh wave of arousal through me – I want him in every single one of those situations and my life won’t be complete if I don’t get it.

‘Want me to fuck my cum back into you?’ ‘Please fuck me, Mase. I need it,’ I beg pathetically, the boy grinning against my skin. He sits up on his knees again, pulling out of me and focusing his eyes between my legs. I can feel his cum dripping out of me a few moments later, his eyes darkening and smirk growing at the sight. I reach down and scoop some of it up, lifting my hand to my mouth and swiping my tongue across one fingertip, able to taste both of us. He watches me with a heavy focus, so I decide to help him along to getting hard again.

I reach my hand back down, his cum still on my fingers, and I think about pushing it back into me, but my nails are too long for me to put my fingers inside myself, so I rub it across my clit instead. I curse under my breath, keeping my eyes on his face as I smear his release across my folds and my clit, rolling my hips to meet the movements of my hand. He looks desperate for me, eyes so dark they’re almost black and lips parted to let out heavy breaths.

‘You’re so fucking hot, babe, oh, my God,’ he groans, hand fisting his cock, and he’s already hard again, abs clenching at the stimulation he’s giving himself. ‘Mase, fuck me, please,’ I whimper, still rubbing slow circles at my clit, and it’s like my begging knocks him back into action. He moves my hand away, replacing it with his own, and even though he matches my pace, it just feels so much better, my back arching under his touch.

He pulls off my socks, both of us now completely naked, and he lifts one of my legs to rest my ankle on his shoulder. He’s still resting on his knees, and he kisses the inside of my ankle as he buries himself deep inside me with much less resistance this time. I feel so much more exposed without his body covering mine, but the infatuation in his gaze as it travels across my body makes me feel confident rather than uncomfortable.

‘Can I move?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slipping his hands beneath my back to lift my body up from the bed slightly. ‘Use your safe word if I’m being too rough,’ he says, the only bit of warning before he pulls almost all the way out before slamming all the way back in. There’s slight pain but it only adds to the pleasure, my eyes rolling back as I let out a high-pitched moan.

‘Fuck, baby, your moans are so fucking pretty. My pretty baby sounds so desperate and good for me,’ he murmurs, moving my body back and forth to meet his strong thrusts, his cock so deep it feels like it’s in my stomach. His hands are tight at my waist, holding me in a bruising grip, and his thrusts are just as forceful, but the kisses he presses to my ankles and legs are so soft and tender in comparison, my mind in a mess at the conflicting sensations.

He's much more focused on my pleasure now, watching my face intently to see my reactions as he fucks into me at a steady pace, the sounds of my moaning and skin slapping against skin drowning out the gentle music in the background. My body’s so stunned at the unfamiliar feelings, but the thing that makes me squirm the most is the look on his face as he watches me, a mix of cockiness, affection and intense desire.

‘You’re taking it so fucking well, y/n. My pretty girl loves having my cock, isn’t that right?’ he murmurs, voice strained with the effort of fucking me, and I can’t even respond, just moaning his name desperately. I feel the knot in my stomach starting to tighten as I watch his muscles rippling with every movement, the blood vessels in his body corded tight.

‘Getting close?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod, the boy adjusting his position so he’s lying over me again, one leg slung around his waist with the other bent up between our bodies. He fucks into me with renewed energy, the new position meaning the head of his cock is brushing against a spot inside me that makes my eyes tear up, and his grunts of effort are directly against my ear, driving me wild.

‘Fuck, Mase, feels so good,’ I moan in a high-pitched tone against his ear, the boy cursing, his pace increasing after hearing the desperation in my voice. He rests his weight on one forearm, his other hand slipping between our bodies to draw harsh circles at my clit. It’s all too much – his cock hitting the soft spot inside me, his fingers rubbing at my clit, his noises in my ear – and I feel myself hurtling towards my high.

‘Is my pretty baby gonna cum on my cock for me? Come on, babe, you’re so close. Cum around me like a good little slut, baby,’ he murmurs against my ear, thrusting particularly hard as he presses down on my clit, and I cry out his name as my orgasm washes over me. My walls clamp down around him, so tight he can’t move, so he gets me through my orgasm by rubbing harshly at my clit, sucking bruises onto my neck as my nails dig into his back, scratching lines across his skin.

My walls loosen around him once I start coming down, and he takes the opportunity to start fucking into me again, chasing his own orgasm. The overstimulation is too much, my body still twitching with aftershocks, body squirming beneath his.

‘Come on, baby, you can take it. Be a good girl for me,’ he breathes out, words broken up with curses and moans, and despite the tears running down my face, I want to do as he says. So I do my best to get him there, engaging what sanity I have left to meet his thrusts, clenching around him, kissing and biting along his jaw.

‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum, babe,’ he groans, burying himself deep in me as he moans my name, filling me with his release again. He thrusts into me slowly to get himself through his orgasm before pulling out when he’s done, cum dripping out of me.

‘You’re such a good girl for me, baby,’ he murmurs, collecting up the cum that’s trickling across my skin before pushing it back into me with a two fingers, prompting an ‘mmm’ sound from low in my throat, legs closing around his hand.

‘Let me clean you up,’ he says, half to himself, and he gets up off the bed and pulls his boxers back on before heading into the en suite. My body relaxes back into the duvet, skin damp with sweat and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and I focus on the music so I don’t drift off to sleep, my body exhausted.

I can feel Mason’s hands on me as he cleans me up with a damp towel but I don’t register anything he says and I can’t focus my eyes on him either, lids sliding shut after a few seconds. When they reopen, it’s clearly been a while – Mason’s pulled the covers over my body and put a fresh pair of pants on me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand and a bottle of water beside him. All the presents he got me are sitting on my vanity table, the bouquet of flowers on my bedside table, and I admire them with a warm feeling in my chest.

‘Mase,’ I say, voice hoarse, and he turns to look at me with a smile. ‘She’s back,’ he grins, lifting one of my hands to press a kiss to the skin, contentment filling me. ‘You okay?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I hum in response as he hands me a bottle of water, watching as I gulp it down.

‘Why are you sitting there?’ ‘I thought it was a bit… presumptuous to get into bed with you without asking,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You were just inside me.’ ‘Still.’ ‘Mason, I don’t have a problem with my boyfriend getting into bed with me,’ I say with a small smile, and he tilts his head amusedly.

‘I’m not your boyfriend. Well, I’m your fake boyfriend. I haven’t asked if I can be your real boyfriend yet,’ he reminds me, and I roll my eyes. ‘You don’t have to ask.’ ‘No, babe. You told me you dreamed of romance in a relationship, and I want to be the man of your dreams, so I’m gonna ask, with a big gesture and everything,’ he says, and I pout.

‘So I have to wait?’ I ask, and he shakes his head with a grin, reaching over and plucking the single pink rose out of the bouquet, handing it to me. When I hold it, I realise it’s not real, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘It’s a forever rose. There was a card that I wrote to go with it but I chickened out and didn’t give it to you,’ he says, picking up his jeans from where they are on the floor, fishing out a note and handing it to me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y/n. You’ll be in my heart until the last rose dies. Yours forever, Mason x

My eyes fill with tears, the boy laughing as he moves to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘You’re so cute, babe,’ he murmurs, and I shake my head. ‘No, you’re so cute! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I reply tearfully, Mason stroking my hair with a soft hand.

‘Look at the rose again,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, inspecting it. As I move it, I notice the light glinting off something between the petals. I pick it out with my nails, gasping at the sparkling pink sapphire set into a silver ring. ‘It matches the jewellery set. It’s a promise ring,’ he says, taking it from me and slipping it onto my left ring finger.

‘A promise for what?’ ‘A promise that I’ll replace it with an engagement ring and then a wedding ring, if that’s what you want. A promise that I’ll love you forever, y/n,’ he says softly, and I turn to look at him with wide eyes. ‘Love?’ ‘What else, babe? Since the moment I saw you, I knew. You were gonna change my life, and now I can’t imagine it without you and all your pink. I love you, y/n,’ he whispers, and I let out a teary laugh, pulling him in for a kiss.

‘You still haven’t asked me,’ I say suddenly, breaking apart from him, and he laughs. ‘y/n, will you be my girlfriend?’ ‘Yes!’ I exclaim, pulling him back into a kiss. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper into the kiss, feeling his lips curve up into a smile. ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, breaking away from me, and I laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve only just realised it, but I know it now. I love you, Mason Mount,’ I smile, the boy pulling me into his arms with a chuckle. ‘I love you more, my clueless girl.’

[ladymarycrawley]

Mummy was mine first - Mason Mount

Request: I have a request of a drunk Mason with his newly pregnant girlfriend - him getting all emotional thinking the new baby will take his girl away from him. Stuff like lifting her shirt and talking to his baby saying things like “remember your mummy was mine first 🥺”

Warning: Mason may sound like a prick in this but it was just for the sake of the story 💔

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover @masterclassbaby​

The moment you told Mason you were pregnant with your first child, he swore he couldn’t have been happier. He was literally on cloud nine, eager to live that unique and special experience with you, the love of his life.

As most of the things we have to deal with throughout our lifetime, it wasn’t all fun and games as expected. Actually you had to deal with a lot of changes that would come as the result of your newly found condition: the mood swings, the cravings, all the shopping for the baby, all the readings on how to teach things to your baby, how to grow him up perfectly and, at last but not least, all the potential dangers you had to be careful of.

It was a hell of a ride but it was worth it in the end, or that’s what you hoped at least.

He was absolutely crazy for you and he wanted to remember that image of you forever. Mason grabbed his Polaroid and took the most beautiful pictures of you naked, with your hair dishevelled on the pillow, the white bed sheets covering your lower body as you let your hands caress your baby bump.

In that moment the English footballer swore he never saw a woman as gorgeous as you, he really meant it when he said that the pregnancy made you even more beautiful than you already were. He thought it turned you into a goddess, as he couldn’t care less about the commonly called flaws you always complained about such as your stretch marks, your swollen feet, the extra weight you gained. He took every chance he got to make you feel loved, to give love to every inch of your body.

You sighed and shook your head as you got seated on the bed, looking for your t-shirt.

“Mason, stop it”

“You’re stunning, come on!” He giggled, holding the camera with one hand and lifting your chin up with the other, holding then your face in place to kiss you on the lips.

Mason shot a couple more pictures of you before putting the camera to the side and starting to kiss you passionately.

He was standing before you, balancing himself with his right leg bent over the mattress, at the side of your thigh. 

The ardour that inflamed your kiss was so strong he straddled you, hovering over you, always being careful of your bump.

He gently led you towards the soft surface beneath, so you could be in a more comfortable position while he made you feel his love.

You didn’t have the slightest intention to move, you just wanted to stay there basking in the relaxing yet exciting feelings only he could give you. Your legs were loosely wrapped around his middle as his right hand was delicately keeping your thigh up while the left one was holding your arms back on the blanket, above your head.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt his fingers fiddling with your knickers.

During the pregnancy, even if it was something common for most women, you started developing a sense of discomfort towards your body: it was inevitably changing but, since you've never been that self confident, those major changes were only increasing the doubts about the beauty or the attractiveness of your curves.

Mason was willing to do everything that was in his power to make you enjoy sex without making you feel guilty, embarrassed or in pain. That's why you spent a whole afternoon on a website the ob gyn suggested you to have pregnant sex safely, to learn all the pros and cons of such a pleasurable activity during a time where things might have gotten a little more difficult.

Whenever your mind took you back to that afternoon you couldn't help but smile, both because it was a funny memory and because seeing Mason so careful and attentive towards you to make you feel better, filled your heart with more love. But reading advice and theories was a thing, putting them into practice was another, even more so since your belly was getting bigger, leading you through the third trimester.

“Mase, the -”

“Yep, the belly is in the way, I know” You both giggled, Mason was really caught up in the moment he didn’t think about the six (nearly seven) months belly you had to deal with.

He sighed, sitting on the bed again.

"It's not just that, my back hurts a little more today"

Mason helped you up, careful not to hurt you, massaging your aching muscles. 

"I just ruined your sex drive" You let out in a low voice, feeling kind of bad.

"Hey hey, you didn't ruin anything, that's okay" He kissed your temple in the sweetest way. "Here, let's see if this one is more comfortable" Mason gestured for you to lay back on the pillows he put there to ease your back pain so your body was resting on the edge of the bed while his body was standing before yours, a little bent over.

You smiled at each other until your boyfriend's lips moved upwards to kiss your forehead, tracing your jaw next and ending on your neck.

In order not to weigh on your stomach, Mason kneeled down on your bedroom floor as his hands were on your hips and his mouth was leaving little hot kisses and bites against the soft skin of your thighs.

You would have liked to have sex with your boyfriend so bad but apparently your body didn't have the same intention: apart from the back pain, there were also those hateful little voices in your head the kept on saying you were embarrassing, that you didn't deserve the hot man which was your boyfriend to to make love to you because you were obscene, which wasn't the truth of course.

"I - I can't do it" You placed your hands on Mason's shoulders to make him stop.

He raised his head, frowning at your sudden halt.

"Sorry babe, I can't do this" You sniffled in the attempt not to burst out crying.

"That's okay" Mason said in a low voice, getting back on his feet and helping you up.

Various thoughts were beginning to crowd Mason's head too: he started asking himself what could have possibly gone wrong, weren't you really okay or was he just underestimating some signals he should have been careful of? You weren't attracted to him anymore??

He tried to fight all that brainwork while helping you get your clothes back on, doing the same with himself some minutes later.

"I'm sorry Mase, I really wanted to do that but -"

"I know, I know. Don't worry, it's fine" He faked a smile and left a gentle peck over your lips before leaving your bedroom and going to his game room. He needed to distract his mind a bit and maybe you needed some time alone too.

You huffed and went to the bathroom to fill the bath tub with some hot water and a rose scented water bomb to relax your sore body and your tired mind all the same. Warm water would also reduce some of the weight your spine had to sustain whic was a huge relief, making bath time something you had been really looking forward to at least once a day.

The last thing on your mind was upsetting Mason but you were sure he would have understood how you were feeling during that delicate moment. 

In the other room, Mason’s attempt not to dwell on what happened an hour ago didn’t work as he was there, with his headphones on, his fingers shifting over the controller, his stare fixed on the screen before him but his mind was still on you. He knew a thing as big as the arrival of a baby would have changed your priorities but it didn’t want you to change the way you looked at him: he still wanted to be your hero, your everything, he was afraid he wasn’t ready to leave hthe place in your heart for the baby girl who would have been there in a couple of months.

Maybe he was just a bit moody, maybe he was being childish but that concern was something that had been keeping him awake for a whole week now.

Mason turned off the console, putting away all the other devices he used during game time and started wandering around the house looking for you as he came to the conclusion that the best and wisest thing he could do was sharing what his real thoughts were with you, the love of his life and the mum of his daughter.

“Y/N?”

The first room he checked in was the right one as he pushed the bathroom’s door ajar open and the image of you, standing applying some moisturising over your legs, welcomed him. 

A small smile appeared on his lips as he entered the room wrapped in a cloud of heat reminding him you liked to take your shower and bath in hot, very hot water.

“Why didn’t you call me to help you get out of the tub?”

“Didn’t want to disturb you plus I’ve managed to do it myself” You say, a small note of pride in your voice.

Mason’s eyes roamed over your body, taking in your every movement and passing you the clean underwear and pajamas (that is to say a pair of joggers and one of his t-shirts) for the night.

"This may sound weird but... I don't like thieves"

"What?" You stopped massaging your face with the night lotion in order to understand what Mason was meaning with that apparent nonsense sentence he just spoke.

"Yeah I don't like people that steal things from me"

"Mason, are you okay? Who stole you what?"

He scoffed, somehow annoyed. He blankly stared down at his feet, as a child would do once getting scolded over something.

"The baby"

"Mase baby, sorry but I'm afraid I don't follow you"

You really were clueless about what he was complaining about, feeling a bit powerless too as you wanted to help him but it seemed kind of hard doing so  with him not being clear about what his problem was. You noticed there was something weird in him that day but didn't understand what.

He huffed, getting closer to your body leaning against the basin, looking in the mirror in front of you reflecting both his pout and your frown.

Mason looked down at your exposed collarbone before moving a strand of hair behind your ear. He then laid his head where his glance was, uttering against your skin. "I don't want her to take you away from me"

"Oh Mase" You cooed. He was the cutest human being ever in that moment. He didn't seem like a man who was about to become a dad at all, he felt like a kid who's about to become the older brother and doesn’t want the newcomer to steal his parents' affection. 

You started scratching the back of his neck affectionately, placing lingering kisses on the top of his head.

"I can assure you nothing bad will happen. She won't take me away from you, no one will ever. You two will be the most precious humans in my life, I'll love you more than words can express and I'll cherish every moment with the both of you"

Your lips took the place of your fingers, leaving kiss after kiss on his nape, where his hair was the shortest.

Mason sighed, a sad but relieved sigh, as if your remarks comforted him but he wasn't sure enough, as if he needed some more encouraging and endearing words from you.

"You know I love you, right?"

"I don't know"

"What does it mean you don't know??" Your tone feigning shock and disbelief.

"I don't know if you'll love her more than me"

"Oh…you're more of a child than the one I'm carrying in my belly, I swear" 

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm you were using to answer his apparently silly worry. Your reaction made him feel unappreciated, as you didn’t care enough about what caused him that sense of uneasiness.

Mason left you there standing in the bathroom as he let his stressed limbs lay on the soft bed in your bedroom.

“Mase? Are you serious?” You followed him in your room.

“Nevermind, don’t fell like talking now” He uttered, his words muffled as he was keeping his face flat against his pillow.

“Oh my goodness” You closed your eyes, stroking the bridge of your nose back and forth with your finger. The way he was acting was becoming rather annoying, to be honest, and you were too tired to fight for a useless cause with a grown man that was just, in your opinion, throwing a tantrum. “Okay. I’ll be on the sofa eating ice-cream and watching Netflix, if you wanna talk you know where to find me”

You left him there and went to take your spot on the grey sofa downstairs, ready to binge watch the latest season of Derry Girls while scoffing down what was left of your beloved brownie and cookie ice-cream that became a must of your pregnancy by now.

If there was something you hated dealing with was discussing with Mason especially now, where the smallest of inconvenience would bring tears to your eyes.

The moment your view was interrupted by the sound of his footsteps approaching, you sighed under your breath, determined to act as if you hadn't heard him. Until when he took a seat beside you and you felt his eyes burning through you.

“Do you want a spoonful?” You asked him to break the ice.

“Nope, I’d never steal my baby mama’s favourite ice-cream”

That line was supposed to bring a smile to your face and it succeeded in doing so.

“Stop talking about stealing”

You averted your sight from the screen only when Mason placed his head on your thighs, making the butterflies in your stomach come alive.

With your one free hand, you started stroking his cheeks, moving them to massage his scalp.

“What’s troubling you, Mase?”

After you heard him emitting a loud sigh you knew the thing was getting serious so you just paused the tv to have your full attention set on him.

“It’s just - I’m afraid the miss here will steal you from me, that you’ll give her all your love and attention and when it comes to me you’ll be too tired to even look at me”

“Mase -”

“I’m so worried about this, Y/N. I know, this may sound as something childish or immature but I don’t want anything to change between us, apart from changing nappies and things like that”

You let out a soft chuckle and shifted in your seat to face him, as he had gotten up from your lap to seat properly.

“Look, I didn't mean to be harsh earlier, I’m sorry, but you hurt me when you said you weren’t sure whether I loved her more than you. I meant it when I said I’ll love you more than words can ever say. The baby will need all our attention and love and maybe yes, it’ll arrive a moment when we’ll be too tired to even kiss each other goodnight but it’s part of the process”

“I know but…I’m sorry, I wasn’t the one talking, it felt as if someone just took over me and spoke words I didn’t mean to say. I know it’s not easy having to deal with that ever growing belly but sometimes I just feel like I’m not doing enough to make you feel good and I hate that. I know she’ll need all our love, I’ve started loving her the moment you told me we would’ve become parents but sorry...I’ve been feeling weird lately” ”

The promise you made yourself not to cry, failed miserably and your orbs started getting watery with tears.

“You have nothing to reproach yourself for, Mason, really. It’s just - oh great, I’m a mess and she started kicking like a fucking footballer”

Mason chuckled and he promptly put his hand over the hump she formed pressing her feet against your belly.

“She learnt from the best” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“The fact is that…I appreciate every little thing you do to make my pregnancy a little more bearable and I’m so grateful for you, every single moment of my life but the truth is I don’t appreciate my changing body as much as you do and I always feel hideous, I’m really embarrassed of myself... the thought you want to make love to me feels absurd to me” You burst out crying and Mason had to hug you tightly to calm you down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make all of this about me”

“That’s okay and stop feeling sorry for everything. I love you so fucking much. I’m the one who has to be sorry” He let his lips linger against your forehead, detaching from your body when he felt your baby’s kick against his ribcage which was where your belly was leaning against.

He lowered himself further so his face was now at the same height as your stomach, lifting your t-shirt up so your bump was on full display. The moment Mason’s strokes met your swollen skin, your daughter calmed down a bit, giving you a rest.

“I think she’s a bit angry” You said, adjusting yourself against the armrest of the sofa so you could spread your bent legs more to let Mason make himself comfortable against your own body.

“Oh, daddy made you angry? I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Daddy didn’t mean to make his little princess angry, nor your mummy... it’s just that he loves your mummy so much…remember she was mine first, okay?”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you are drunk”

“I’m drunk in love”

“Oh Mase…”

“And now please baby, behave and don’t hurt mama cause she and dada have things to do”

“What kind of things do we have to do?”

“The ones where dada helps mama to love herself more…”

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Better Cross the Line

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2k words

Warnings: Language, reader has a nickname, lying/sneaking around, adults drink beer, Roy is already down bad, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting

“Yeah, Kent. You could call me sometime.”

Roy nodded, clearly fighting the urge to smile, and squeezed your hand. “You should probably go inside soon,” he sighed as he turned his face towards the sky. “Your dad’ll be looking for you.” As though he couldn’t help it, he looked back at you. “But I’ll call you,” he promised with a firm nod.

You reluctantly left Roy on the pitch, your head swimming with wondering when the footballer would call you and what he would say. Or ask. It was clear you were no longer alone in your attraction, and that this was at least something more than an entertaining flirtation on his end.

The questions still floated in your mind while you watched your father gather his work things. When he wasn’t looking, you quickly scribbled your mobile number on a sticky note and tucked it into Roy’s locker when no one was paying attention.

In the car you were uncharacteristically quiet; normally, you and your dad would spend the drive chatting about training, about the players, about any football news or rumors you’d read while sitting in his office. But today, your thoughts were too full of Roy Kent and his brown eyes and wondering when he’d call to offer anything more than little Mmm hmms and Yeahs to your increasingly perplexed father.

It was the moment you walked through the front door that your mobile and the universe had mercy on you. You all but scrambled up the stairs as you answered it.

“Hello?” Fuck, since when was your voice this damn breathy?

“Hey.”

Your heart and your bedroom door slammed in sync. Roy Kent was calling you.

How were you supposed to breathe, let alone talk, when a gorgeous, funny, talented, famous footballer called you up after holding your hand on the pitch?

Clearly, Roy could tell you were struggling to form words, because he went on speaking. “This is Roy.” As if you wouldn’t know that delicious growl anywhere.

“I know,” you finally managed. You collapsed on your bed. “You called fast,” you teased.

“Didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten,” he replied with a small chuckle. Why the hell did he sound nervous? You were the one living in a fantasy, lying in your room, chatting on the phone with Chelsea’s star player. For him, this was probably just a Thursday night. “I was wondering…” He cleared his throat, a low, gruff sound. “D’you want to come over? We could watch a film, have some pizza.”

You were living in the Matrix. That was it. That had to be it. There was no other explanation to why Roy fucking Kent was asking you out. Well, in. But still. How the fuck was this happening?

“Sure,” you managed, hoping he couldn’t hear how thick your voice felt. “That sounds great.” You sat up and cleared your throat, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror and trying to flatten your suddenly unruly hair. “What time?”

“Whenever.” There was that Roy Kent aloofness, almost as if he was trying to convince you he didn’t care as much as he truly did. “Just… you’re not telling your dad, right?”

There it was. The thing that was going to be perpetually hanging over whatever this thing was going to end up being. Dear Old Dad, Chelsea’s fearless leader, Roy’s boss. He’d never in a million years approve of you seeing Roy Kent. He knew what footballers were like, and he knew what Roy Kent was like. Your dad might have that heart attack he was always joking about if he got even a whiff of this conversation.

Not that you were going to let that stop you.

“Course not,” you hummed. “You’d be buried under Stamford Bridge if the old man ever found out you called.”

His chuckle echoed in your ear. “Appreciate it.”

He quickly gave you directions to his flat, and you agreed to be over in about an hour. When you hung up, you fought the urge to scream into a pillow. You were going to Roy Kent’s place. You’d be watching a movie, hanging out, with Roy Kent. Hell, you might wind up kissing Roy Kent by the end of the night.

You clambered out of bed and rushed to your closet. You’d gone on lots of dates, you reminded yourself. Dates with ridiculously good-looking guys even. Successful dates, you might add. But none with Roy Kent, the little voice in your head pointed out.

After stressing over whether or not you could even call this a date, you finally forced yourself to find a flattering pair of jeans and a light sweater. Comfortable, casual enough for a movie night, but something you knew you looked good in. A quick brush through your hair, a little lip gloss, some trainers on your feet. It was just right for a night in, and hopefully simple enough to not rouse your father’s attention.

“’m taking the car!” you shouted as you practically skipped downstairs.

“Where are you off to?” Your mother’s soft smile was a welcome sight when you were hoping to avoid your dad.

You fiddled with the strap of your purse. “Angela’s,” you blurted out, naming a friend your mother knew well. “Just having a girls’ night.”

She nodded; there was no reason to doubt you, not when your summers were always full of evenings with your friends. “Have fun.” A kiss landed on your forehead. “Be safe, alright?”

Be safe. Her words bounced around in your head as you climbed into your dad’s car, the one you usually borrowed when you were home. Be safe. Was spending time like this, alone in Roy Kent’s flat, being safe? You weren’t an innocent little dove, but you knew his reputation. You knew it well. You giggled over it with your friends, wondering if the things you read in the tabloids were true, rolling your eyes lightheartedly when the girls asked if you’d ever seen anything in the changing room.

Oh, the things they’d say if they knew what you were up to.

The drive to his building was shorter than you expected, shorter than you needed it to be with the nerves you were trying to control. Somehow, they got worse as you strolled into the building and found your way to Roy Kent’s flat. After a shake of your shoulders to try to get rid of the tension they carried, you gave a quick rap to the door.

You waited maybe two beats before you heard the knob turn. Roy Kent filled the doorway in a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt that fit him too perfectly. He smirked at the sight of you, not bothering to hide the way his eyes flickered down your body. He was less the guy on the pitch who quietly asked if he could call you and more the cocky man you’d read about in tabloids; you weren’t sure which you preferred, but you’d take either one in a heartbeat.

“C’mon in,” he hummed as he opened the door wider for you. You followed him inside, pretending you often found yourself in the flats of professional footballers. He nodded to a shelf filled with DVDs. “Pick something,” he said simply. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.” You turned your attention to the movies as you listened to his footsteps recede to what you assumed was his kitchen. He had a decent collection, you observed. A little bit of everything, and even a couple things you’d never heard of. A smile crossed your face when you caught sight of a familiar movie title.

Roy returned with a couple of beers and a box of pizza, his eyebrows raised when he saw the movie you were holding up. “When Harry Met Sally?” he read.

You nodded and accepted the bottle he handed you as well as the pizza box. “That alright? I really like this one.”

“Whatever you want, princess.” He took the case from you and nodded for you to have a seat.

Roy Kent’s couch was comfortable. It didn’t creak when you sat, not like the couches in residence halls tended to do. You put the pizza on his coffee table and opened the box, letting the delicious smell fill the room. After he turned on the television and set up the movie, Roy turned to look at you, something unreadable flickering on his face for a brief moment.

“Grab a slice,” he mumbled as he plopped down next to you. His eyes found yours, searching for a brief moment. “Thanks for coming over.”

There he was. The guy who’d laid next to you on the pitch and gently touched your hand and asked if he could call you. The guy you liked best, you decided.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you murmured, grabbing a piece of pizza before settling back into the couch. For the second time that day, you found yourself far too close to Roy Kent. Even with the whole couch to sit on, he chose to sit close to you, close enough for your arms to brush every time you took a sip of your beer.

The two of you watched the start of the movie in silence, except for a few breathy chuckles here and there when Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan were particularly funny. Thankful that the food had filled your stomach with something besides butterflies, you stole a glance at Roy. He looked comfortable, almost happy as he brought his bottle to his lips. With his eyes still on the screen, he lifted his arm and settled it behind the couch- behind you. His gazed flickered to you for a moment, eyebrows raised playfully, before he slouched into the cushions.

Was this what Roy Kent making a move looked like?

You tried to focus your attention on the movie, you really did. But you could hear his breathing and feel his side pressed against yours and your peripheral vision could see the pink in this cheeks and fuck, why did he have to smell so good?

When he leaned forward to place his beer on the coffee table, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Oh, shit, you forgot how to breathe. Especially when he kept his arm firmly there once he sat back against the cushions.

Your inability to breathe only got worse when he bowed his head and whispered in your ear, “This alright?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, feeling bold enough to turn to face him.

From this close, you could count every freckle on his face, memorize the shape of his nose and lips, see the brightness in his eyes. You could practically feel the rise and fall of his chest as he leaned forward, letting his nose brush against yours.

“This alright?”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ear, drowning out the sound of Billy Crystal singing “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” on the telly. The only thing you could think about was the tip of Roy’s nose bumping your burning skin and his lips only centimetres away from your own.

“Yes.”

Far too many nights in your dorm had been spent imagining Roy Kent’s lips on yours. But none of those dreams compared to the real thing. Because those fantasies didn’t tell you how soft his lips were, or how his hand rested on your thigh with a gentle firmness. Or how he tasted like pizza and beer and delight. Or the way his mouth parted so his tongue could gently flick against your lips before he pulled away, looking as breathless as you felt. Or, worst of all, how you knew he’d just ruined every other kiss for you.

He cleared his throat as he leaned back, his eyes roaming your face. “Well?”

“Well, what?” You knew he could see the flush on your face, but you hoped that you could hide it by acting as cool as he usually did.

“Well, are you going to let me kiss you again?” There was that cocky grin, the one you often saw on the pitch, the one that made your entire body go warm. “Or are you going to run and tell The Sun that Roy Kent is a shit kisser?”

Despite the swarm of butterflies fluttering in your chest, you laughed and rolled your eyes. “Sorry, I think I need another demonstration.”

Roy shook his head at you and cupped your face. “If you insist, princess.”

Taglist: @gee72sstuff @book-of-roses @kissykissymouth @emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92 @dearvoidgoodnight @misshall14 @issieruby @royal-sunflower @kissmekent @veryprairieberry @itswhateveripromise

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Bradshaw's Date

Summary: Bradley’s younger sister has a date, but will he approve?

Warnings: None besides fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Part 2 here!

A/N: So sorry for being MIA recently. So many of you asked for the flipped version of Seresin’s date, so here we are! Hope you enjoy!

It was days like today where you wish the apartment hunting was more of a priority. Living with your brother has many, many ups, but now there was one major flaw in your slow move to find your own place.

“Hey Roo. How late do you think you’ll be at work today?” You placed a piece of bread in the toaster and lazily glanced to your brother who was drinking coffee, attention solely on his phone.

“Not too sure. Why?” You kept your back to him as you replied, hoping he wouldn’t see through your response.

“No reason. Had plans tonight and didn’t know if you would be here when I left.” The bread in the toaster popped up, making you jump. You heard the chuckle behind you and turned to roll your eyes.

“It’s like a damn jack in the box for adults.” Bradley heard your mumbling and smiled as he got up to put his cup in the sink.

“I think it’s going to be a regular day. Mav said we were running some drills but nothing serious. I’d say we will be done around dinner. Who are your plans with?”

He didn’t miss the way you tensed at the question but played it off like he was clueless. Bradley could read you like a book which is why he knew your plans were with someone you didn’t want him meeting.  

“Ah, just this guy I met. We are grabbing a few drinks and that’s it.” You put butter on you toast a little too violently for it to seem casual.

“You think I’ll like the guy?” You nearly dropped the butter knife at that question. Would your brother like the guy? Absolutely not which is why you are trying to get out of there before he gets home.

“Possibly. But do you think you would like any guy I brought home?” You heard your brother snort in response.

“Fair point.”

Bradley pulled into his driveway from work, getting home around the time he had originally said. He went to get out of his car but stopped when he saw a truck pull in behind him. Jake had gotten out dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around why he was standing in his driveway.

“Are you lost?” Jake gave him the smirk that one day he was going to knock off his face. Nothing got under his skin more than the guy who thinks he’s better at everything than you.

“Honestly I was trying to beat you here but damn, you drive faster than you fly.” Jake leaned against his truck as he waited for the pieces to click.

Bradley glanced up to the house and then back to his teammate. “Absolutely not. Get back in your truck and leave before I make you.”

He expected some push back or a witty remark, but instead Jake ran a hand through his hair looking like he was trying to figure out how to approach things.

“Listen man. I have sisters and I know exactly how this feels. You don’t want any guy within 20 feet of her, especially someone like me. But don’t think I asked her out for this to be a one-time thing. Your sister is special and grateful as hell that she would give me the time of day. She’s not someone you toss aside. She’s someone you work your damn hardest to prove that you’re worth her time and I’m not taking a single second for granted. At least let me take her out tonight and if she hates it or you still aren’t okay with it, I’ll back off. Sisters are something special and I would hate if a guy got between me and mine.”

Bradley didn’t know what to say. Everything in him wanted to throw him out and tell him to never look in your direction again. But damn did his words make sense. Before he had a chance to respond, he heard the front door shut.

“Well, if this doesn’t teach me to get my own place, I don’t know what will.” You walked down the steps of the house to the two men having some sort of standoff in the driveway. Jake offered you a small smile that almost seemed nervous. But your brother met your gaze with a look that told you he was beyond pissed.

“Grind your teeth any harder and your mustache might fall off.” You didn’t miss the cough that came from Jake trying to cover up a laugh, but Bradley wasn’t amused.

“Any guy. You could have gone out with any guy, but this is who you settled for?”

You saw the small flinch Jake made out of the corner of your eye and you knew trying to joke your way out of things wasn’t going to work.

“Listen here, bird boy. I am not settling for anyone, nor would I ever settle. You of all people should know that about me. And you would think me going out with one of your teammates would be better than some random stranger I picked up at a bar. If anything were to happen, you know exactly where to find them.”

Bradley nodded his head at the last statement. “Damn right I do.” You fought the eye roll and settled for a sigh.

“What’s the problem then?” Those words seemed to stop your brother in his path. It was a simple question really, and you were willing to listen to every concern he had. But you were met silence and Bradley opening and closing his mouth like he was some sort of fish.

“Well?” To your surprise, Jake had stayed quite the entire time. You knew the reputation he had, and it was one of the reasons why you were nervous for your brother to find out. But the guy standing in front of you wasn’t trying to force his way into the conversation or talk his way out of a corner. Instead, he was letting you handle things and offered supportive smiles when needed.

“It’s Hangman. I shouldn’t have to have more of a reason than that. You’ve heard what he does to people. He hangs them out to dry and what is stopping him from doing that to you?”

You heard what your brother was saying, but his own worked up opinion of his teammate was clouding his judgement so much that he failed to notice the decent things about Jake.  

“Answer me this. If you were getting chased down by a plane I’m not supposed to know exists, who would you want racing to get there in time?” You saw a small smile form on Jake’s face as he waited for his teammates answer, but it never came.  

“Next question. You say he only cares about himself, but did you ever think maybe he was trying to make everyone around him better?” You watched the frustration grow on his face as you gave him one final question.

“Would you really think I would date a pilot after everything that’s happened unless I saw something in him? I might have been too young to know dad, but I saw the loneliness mom went through.” The last question was a bit of a low blow, but Bradley needed to understand that you weren’t dating Jake as a game. You knew the risks that came with it but there was something about him that made you want to take those risks.

“I just don’t want you dating at all.” Bradley’s voice came out quieter than it was before, but you knew you had gotten through to him.

“And now we have the real reason.” Your brother gave you a confused look and you smirked at him.

“Just because you aren’t getting laid doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” The color drained from his face as he stepped back and shook his head.

“Oh god. You can’t say things like that. Jesus, how does a guy come back from that?” You were laughing at this point and your brother wrapped you in a tight hug.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt. Dad would kill me if he knew I was letting you go out with a pilot.” He pulled back and you smiled at him.

“But mom would be thrilled. She always said the top gun guys were something special.” You stepped out of his embrace and walked over to Jake who pulled flowers out of his truck.

“You ready to get going, sweetheart?” You looked over to your brother for confirmation that this was okay.

Bradley held out his hand to Jake. “You bring her back by 11 or I’m calling Mav.” Jake shook his hand and gave him a single head nod.

“Sure, thing Bradshaw. Your sister is safe with me.”  

Bradley stepped back towards the house and watched as Jake held the door open for you. The smile you had on your face was genuine happiness and he couldn’t help but smile as well.

Headlights flashed through the house, signaling that the two of you were gone. Bradley picked up his phone and called Mav. “Hey man. Can you do me a favor? Hangman just picked your Goddaughter up for a date and I was wondering if you can make his life hell for me tomorrow?”

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? I love to hear from you all!! Tag list is open. Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off! Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsgf

[heyhihellosworld]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 3,1k

Summary: Toxic friend and hot boyfriend, maybe an opportunity for some revenge

Warnings: Angst, mentions of toxic friend and partner, smut!

Notes: So long since I updated so, sorry for that. This may contain a lot of wrongs because I haven't really proofread it. So the smut is now time and all the others are in the past, flashback ish. Hope it makes sense.

Was it wrong? Probably yeah it was. But it didn't feel wrong when his lips met yours or when he touched you, no it felt fucking right.

You knew she would freak out if she saw you right now, probably scream and make a scene of what a shitty friend you were but that only made it feel even better. Knowing you pissed her off and got her back for all she'd done to you filled you with satisfaction.

It wasn't all about him but he knew that, you knew it wasn't all about you either. This was a source of revenge with a hint of built up tension.

You moaned as his lips traveled down your collarbone and chest, messy and needy. It was all a hot mess but you loved it, your arms hanging around his shoulders, fingers tickling his neck and combing through his hair as his lips wandered over you.

You and your friends had rented an airbnb in Greece for the summer, planning a well needed rest in a relaxing environment for a couple of weeks. The five people in your friend group, two external friends and five of their partners created a quite large group but that was common on your annual summer vacations. As long as everyone was nice and had a good vibe you didn't care.

There was only one creating tension, your childhood friend but there was nothing new with that. Everybody in the group knew her and her behaviors. It was just how she was, how she behaved and what she thought was cute. A real pick-me was what she was and a huge asshole at that. She never considered other peoples feelings or thoughts and not once letting somebody elses needs go before hers. In her world she was the queen and if anybody went up against her chaos broke out.

This had been the story since you were both five but it wasn't until adult-life you had understood how toxic it was and how much she was manipulating and changing you. But even with the knowledge she was still in your life.

This summer she had asked her boyfriend to tag along. He was the hot topic in your group as she always seemed to pick guys similar to herself, assholes.

But this time it was different. She had been bragging about him for as long as you could think of but for the first time she wasn't all talk. He was a footballer, something she never shut up about because apparently that was really important for everyone to know. She chatted holes in your head about how hot he was and how good he was in bed, you knew way too much without even having met the guy.

Your expectations were down the ground when you met him for the first time, expecting him to be rude or whatever but he completely floored you. He wasn't anything like her, he was sweet and funny, caring and soft. He was also unbelievably good looking, your eyes sticking to him way too often. The only question you had was how in the world she had gotten a guy like that. Someone who wasn't only way out of her league look-wise but also someone who was way too good for her. He was cheeky and flirtatious for sure but it wasn't her usual guy and it sparked something.

He made you feel like you skin was on fire. Fingertips leaving a trail of heat as they wandered down your body. You were on his bed now, his kisses making your head tilt back as he nipped at the sensitive skin. You couldn't recall the last time you'd felt this hot, like you were burning up but in a very pleasant way.

When his fingers reached the hem of your underwear you could no longer control the soft whines that left your mouth. The timid looking guy who had been so shamefully sweet and gentle was completely gone as he chuckled at you laying there, needy and whiny. He held a smirk on his face that told you everything you needed to know.

His face hovered over yours as he teased your clit carefully, almost mocking your needy state as his fingers just barely touched you before drawing away. It was such a risky thing to do, in a house filled with all of your friends and maybe also her. Yet here you were, letting him touch you in such an intimate way with no remorse.

The first couple of days were fine, Mason came into the group perfectly and she was suddenly more pleasant to be around whenever he was there. You didn't know if she honestly liked him or if he was just too attractive to give up but something made her stick around so far, something she usually never did. But again, he was something different.

It was one week in when you could see the usual pattern begin with her. The avoiding, icing and searching for validation started but Mason didn't seem to care. He held a nice smile on his face and searched for more company with you and the others instead which nobody had a problem with, well except from her of course. She was the one who should take distance and not the other way around. So the more he was with you and the others the more annoying she got, starting shit against him and you all for every small thing possible.

-

"What?" she snarled in a monotone voice

You shrugged, not really doing anything to deserve the tone she was giving you from where she sat in the arm-chair with a grouchy look.

"You have something to tell me?" she scoffed at your nonchalant shrug, wanting more than that from you.

"No? What would that be?" you tiredly asked. She had been a real bitch the last couple of days, constantly nagging every single one of you, remarking and claiming something. You were still annoyed over how she acted last night towards Mason having had a go at him for sitting on the sofa with you and one of your other friends. The shaming was completely uncalled for and the poor guy had looked extremely uncomfortable as she cussed him out.

"Uh, oh I don't know" she sarcastically exclaimed, holding her hand in front of her mouth dramatically. "Maybe that you fancy Mason!"

You could't help the laughter that escaped your mouth at her words "I'm what?"

"You totally like him y/n, I don't get how you could do this to me" Shaking your head was the only thing you could do "I don't fancy anyone!"

"Then explain last night" she huffed stubbornly, folding her arms over her chest stubbornly. "What to explain? You were a complete bitch and I just defended the poor guy when you treated him like complete shit and it was completely uncalled for!"

"Oh stop it, I did not treat him like shit and I had every right to call him out"

A scoff left your mouth "It was not right, he didn't even do shit just sat down in a sofa"

She clicked her tongue in annoyance but letting it go at that unfolding her arms again as she looked at you "Sorry I just actually like this guy and the way you were behaving was just not okay" Steam was basically blowing from your ear as you swallowed thickly, telling yourself to let it go but fuck if you didn't wanna scream at her face.

Instead for shouting and slapping her you changed the subject "you actually like him?"

A shrug painted her expression "like and like, I mean he is extremely attractive and the sex is so so good"

Eyes rolling you left the room, having to unless she wanted a fist in her jaw. Of course she was only attracted to him.

His long sleek fingers picked up their pace, two sliding in and out of you whilst his thumb stroke your clit in small precise circles. You were close, so so terribly close, just lingering on the edge and you envied her for getting this for the last month. Suddenly it made sense as to why she had stuck around him. He was just that good, but of course he was much more than sex.

A cry tickled your tongue, the aware part of your being begging him to stop you from screaming out loud from the brewing orgasm that was just just there.

"Fuck Mason"

He still held that stupid smug smirk all over his face and he looked so proud and cocky. "Hmm, does that feel good?" he hummed, tilting his head mockingly as you nodded frantically, silently asking him not to stop.

"This turns you on, dosen't it. Knowing that we could so easily be heard and caught huh? You love it" No coherent words left your mouth as he pushed you over the edge. It was euphoric, eyes squeezed closed, teeth biting down on his shoulder to keep quite.

He grinned at you as he helped you ride out your orgasm, his hand rubbing your hip gently as you collapsed in his sheets.

"You are so much better than I thought" you sighed out with a content smile on you face as he kissed your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" you asked from your seat on the couch, tilting your head up to look at her as she gathered her stuff from the hall-bench. "Uh, I'm going out" she shrugged, dressing in her jacket and fixing up her hair.

"Uhh, okay? What about our plans then?" you questioned feeling astonished by her unbothered state. She pulled a face "You'll be fine without me" she waved you off "What about Mason, you gonna leave him here?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

A scoff left your mouth before you could stop it "Well maybe it is a bit rude, don't you think? You invite him on a holiday with your friends he has never met before and then you leave him?" Her infamous eye-roll played in front of your eyes, her hand grasping her phone "He will survive, don't need to be so dramatic"

You shook your head as she walked out the door, slamming it behind her like a teenage kid. "Fucking stupid" you cursed out after her

"It's for the better"

You tilted your head back over the back of the couch, smiling as you saw Mason in the opening to the kitchen

"Hm?"

"I appreciate you standing up to her but it's for the better she goes huh?" Your eyebrows raised at him in amusement "Things not going too great?"

The sigh he let out told you enough, chuckling you patted the couch, signaling for him to come closer.

He did so without hesitation, a smile displaying on his face as he plumped down dramatically. "So, tell me. How did you find someone like her"

He shrugged "Party, she got onto me, I was horny, we fucked and then it was repeated. One night she asked me to go with you guys and I didn't have anything else planned so I thought why not"

"Well, I guess. Although I would say you're stupid for going with her without knowing her"

"Probably your right, I mean this trip is fantastic and there are all nice people but phew she is...a lot"

You smiled, leaning back into the couch and tucking your legs underneath you "tell me about it"

He had you on your back, his dick filing you and making you feel fuzzy. His eyes glazed over as he leaned over you, prompting you to wrap your arms around his shoulders as he never let up his pace.

His hot breath fanned your face, small sounds leaving his lips as he started to get close.

"Fuck" you whined as his thumb traveled down your body and started to rub your sensitive clit. It was too much and too little at the same time, your orgasm crawling closer and closer before it snapped.

You were happy, content as you sat in the restaurant chair looking out on the cozy street. It was your fifteenth day here and things felt good, the group was great and it was a lot of fun and relaxing, just what you needed for the summer.

Mason really had came into the group great, everybody liking him and asking him to tag along since she didn't exactly try with him anymore.

It was light chatter, laughs and drinks in the afternoon lightning, it all made you feel like a teenager again. Summer with friends when there were no big problems, it was all light and easy.

The food was nice and the weather pleasant. You were sat next to Mason and one of your other friends. She was sitting opposite Mason, chatting with your friend who sat next to her.

"How was your food?"

You smiled at him, pushing the plate towards him, prompting him to taste as you hadn't missed the eager look he had given your plate all evening.

He chuckled, dropping his head as he realized he had been caught "Come on, it's fine, taste" you giggled, smiling as he took a piece of the pasta you had ordered. "Fuck that is as good as it looks" he hummed in appreciation taking another spoonful of your food

"Your's isn't good?" you chuckled, raising your eyebrows "No no it is" he confirmed, smiling sheepishly.

Mason was easy to be with, easy to talk to and always funny to be around. He had spent a lot of time with you, talking about his family, his football and niece. Never a boring moment.

-

"Are you done flirting so we can go?" Her dry tone made everyone look up from what they were doing, sensing a storm coming to ruin the otherwise great evening.

You sighed, clicking your tongue in annoyance as she glared at you, her arms folded over her chest. "What" you huffed out, trying to not trigger her further.

"What do you mean what, you have been flirting with him all night. He came here with me, not you so I don't understand what you are doing"

A dry chuckle escaped your lips, your body lightning up with annoyance and underlying anger. "Okay, well what if I was flirting with him, what difference would it make?" "You know he came here as my guest, he is with me"

"Yeah I know that but I didn't feel like it was a big deal since you've pretended that he didn't exist this past week"

"Oh shut up I have not you're just so fucking jealous, aren't you? Can't even let me have him" You shook your head "Let you have him, do you even hear yourself? You treated him like fucking shit and I can't even talk to him?"

"Stop acting like you're better than me all the fucking time, you're not!"

You pursed your lips, referring from screaming and making a scene in the restaurant. After this trip you would cut her off for good. At least that's what you wanted but it was also what you'd wanted to do for the past five years but somehow, somehow she always managed to claw you back to her possession.

Mason looked pretty uncomfortable as he sat looking down at the table, not knowing what to say or do in the whole ordeal.

"All I'm doing is talking to him and making him feel okay in the group, that's all and that's more than what I can say about you"

"Stop the bullshit y/n, you have heart-eyes for him, practically begging him to sleep with you"

You scoffed shaking your head feeling incredolous, not knowing what to do.

"You know what, fuck you" you spat, pushing yourself up from the chair and walking off.

You walked back to the villa, still fuming with anger and rage quickly discarding your shoes and taking a moment to just scream, let all frustrations out. You changed to your pj's before walking out to the terrace to cool down.

It wasn't even fifteen minutes until you heard someone enter the villa, knowing who it was before he even found you outside.

"Hey, you ok?" Mason smiled sweetly, popping his head out through the door

You smiled softly at him "Yeah yeah, all fine"

He nodded, walking to you on the deck and sat down opposite to you "She is always like that with you huh?"

"Well always and always, not when she wants something from me" you spoke in an annoyed tone, pulling a face as he chuckled at you

"Why are you friends with her then?"

You laughed, dropping your head back "I am not really but it's just... complicated"

Mason nodded, he could understand it with being childhood friends and all so he didn't bug more about it.

"Well if it makes you feel better I don't mind you flirting with me"

You laughed out loud, leaning back on your hands on the tree deck. "I don't think I'm flirting that hard"

"Nah not that hard but i'm just saying I wouldn't mind it"

"You want me to flirt with you some more? Tell you how pretty you are and how much I want you?" you joked, grinning at him as he pursed his lips, nodding "wouldn't mind it"

You laughed again, tilting your head at him as silence settled in the warmth of Greece.

There was tension in the air, hovering over you both as you sat there, simply looking at each other before Mason took the first step. "If i'm completely out of line here and misjudged the situation you're allowed to slap me" he smiled as he came forward, slowly meeting his lips with yours as you giggled at him, welcoming his lips greedily.

"I mean I know this was about revenge, but fuck me" he sighed stretching his body out on his bed, tilting his head back to look at you who sat against the headboard, you knee tucked up into your chest and a content smile on your face.

"It wasn't all about revenge" you smiled, feeling a warm feeling in your chest as he rested his head against your legs. "No?"

"No" you concluded, you weren't able to restrain yourself from running your fingers through his hair. His smile was dazzling, showing his perfect teeth and glimmering eyes. Convincing you that it truly wasn't all about revenge.

[chelseasdagger]

Teacher

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank's a part of your friend group and invites you to hang out one day, unaware of your massive crush on him. During the visit, you let it slip that you're very inexperienced, and he offers to teach you everything you've missed out on.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of sex, drinking, and smoking

Author's Note: Oh my god! It's finally here, my first fic series! I've had this idea for months now and I've finally got the courage to write it out and post it. I wanna say a huge thank you to @chellestrash and @suitsofwo3 for their continuous support on this series! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 5k

​​To say you had feelings for Frank Castle would be a gross understatement. It was truly nothing short of a schoolgirl crush, an all consuming infatuation that made you want him even more. Being anywhere near him made you feel like you were back in grade school with an uncontrollable flutter of butterflies in your stomach, and you knew you had to at least try and attempt to cease their movements.

But knowing and acting are two very different things, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to stop them. Not when every smile he flashes your way makes them beat their tiny wings so fast that you feel weak in the knees. You knew logically it couldn’t end well, not with him being in your friend group, but you had a feeling you could keep up the friendly facade and not let it slip that your feelings for him are much more intense. 

After all, he’s confident, handsome, and much older than you. How hard could it be?

“How hard could it be,” you repeat, whispering to yourself in the car. Your eyes are trained on the road in front of you as you listen while your GPS navigates you through the city. Frank had invited you over to his place after the last get-together the group had, where you admitted to the fact that you hadn’t seen his, apparently, favorite movie from the ‘80s. It was almost too perfect of a setup and you curse the universe for planning it all. Of all the movies you haven’t seen, you had to confess to this one?

In your defense, it was nearly impossible to decline his offer when his charm flared up like it had that night. Boisterous laughter, crinkles by his eyes when he grinned, and a, “Come on, you’ve gotta see it!” that was so warm and welcoming it had you agreeing before you thought about the implications of that damn nod you gave him.

Thinking back on that night, you nearly miss your turn onto the road that leads to his apartment. You catch it just in time though and as the automated voice informs you that he lives on the left, the anxiety sets in. You begin to focus on your breathing and you find an open parking spot right next to his black van, exactly where he said there would be. Mentally thanking him for eliminating some of the pressure of finding where to park, you pull into the spot and look towards the door with the metal numbers of his address bolted on the plaque beside it.

Once the car is parked and the ignition is off, you close your eyes and inhale enough air until your chest puffs out. “It’s just Frank,” you reassure yourself, attempting to slow down your heart rate. It does little use as his face flashes in your mind when you speak his name, so you decide not to delay the meeting any longer.

With a dry mouth and fidgeting hands you make your way to his apartment, giving yourself one last full breath before raising your hand to knock on his door. Your knuckles sound out against the wood, and there’s only a second of silence before you hear a muffled, “Coming!”

The brief moment to plaster a relaxed smile on your face passes all too quickly and you’re suddenly met with Frank’s warm grin. Failing to ignore the way he’s leaning against the doorframe, you can’t help your eyes immediately glancing at his bicep as it stretches the fabric of his sleeve. You quickly force your gaze back to his face and give yourself a mental shake.

“Hey, kid, glad you could make it,” he greets you kindly. You’d be lying if you said the nickname he reserved for you wasn’t bittersweet. It made you feel special that it only left his lips in reference to you, but logically you knew it was because you were the youngest in the group. The truly bitter part was hearing it and feeling your heart sink that little bit lower; you wondered if he ever saw you as more, if you’d ever be able to satisfy your steadfast crush.

But those spiral sessions are best had at home, so you push away the thoughts and focus on spending time with him. All you’ve ever wanted was time alone with him and you’re not sure when you’ll get the chance again after today.

“Yeah, of course,” your genuine smile takes over, ”I had to see what all the fuss was about.” He chuckles at your joke before stepping aside, gesturing for you to come in. Squeezing past his body, you step into the living room of his home. It’s bigger than you expected, housing a sectional couch and wooden coffee table in the center. There’s also a large television mounted to the wall that’s clearly the main focus of the room. One sweatshirt and a lone blanket are draped on the back of the couch, making up the only clutter in the space. You don’t realize Frank is watching you take it all in until he gently clears his throat.

“Is it as glorious as you expected?” His voice sounds out from behind you and you turn to face him. There’s a smirk on his face and you find yourself chuckling to avoid shrinking into yourself.

“Just… different than I pictured is all,” you gesture vaguely to the open space of the room. There’s a scoff before he walks past you and towards the light grey couch.

“‘Clean’, you mean?” There’s a huff surrounding the question as he plops down onto the couch.

“Well…” you trail off, tilting your head to the side. A smile slowly takes over his face as you tease him.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says as he pats the cushion of the couch. You follow his instruction, opting to keep one seat between the two of you. There’s a pause for a moment and you let your eyes wander to his thighs. His legs are slightly spread on the couch and it’s hard to ignore the way the fabric of his denim jeans are struggling to make room for the muscles of his thighs.

“So you really haven’t seen the greatest film of all time?” He begins again, disbelief clear in his tone. His voice makes your line of sight shoot back up to his face and it’s now your turn to wear a smile.

“You sure are creating a lot of hype for this movie. I hope it doesn’t disappoint,” you laugh softly. His eyes grow wide as a look of shock takes over his face.

“‘Disappoint’? You kiddin’ me? I’m pretty sure this movie paved the way for cinema.” He gets up excitedly, walking towards one of the thin bookshelves that frame the television. His fingers scan the titles quickly, trailing down the rows until he finds one. He pulls the case out from where it was sandwiched between the others before turning around to show it off with a wave of his hand.

“Made sure to rewind it for you yesterday.” You try to ignore the way your brain jumps to conclusions at those few words. The thoughts are loud, however, and you hear them despite your wishes. He really thought this ahead? Was he actually looking forward to seeing you?

Frank pulls the tape from out of its case and kneels down in front of the television. There’s a large, grey VCR lying on the ground and he gently pushes the tape past the small hinge, a tiny whirring sound escaping as it accepts the tape.

“God, I’m really showing my age here, aren’t I?” He nods towards the old technology on the wooden floor.

“I mean, I’ve seen my parents use them before,” you answer honestly.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, bringing his palm to cover his face before dragging it down his cheeks. The giggle that escapes you is involuntary, he looks so cute each time you tease him. You love these moments and how effortless it is to joke around with him, unlike when your usually constant bashfulness is present. 

Once the tape is in, the static on the screen crackles to life and there’s a few seconds before the black fades into a dusty orange sky. As the opening scene begins to play, you feel like you recognize the actors’ names as they appear over the footage. Nothing immediately comes to mind though, so you ignore the nagging feeling of trying to place them and focus on the film.

That proves to be more difficult than you intended. Admittedly, all you can think about is his scent lingering in the space around you. It’s almost as if the couch is bathed in his smell and it feels as though you’re drowning in it in the best way. You halfway register the dialogue sounding out and decide to at least entertain the idea of paying attention. There’s a shot of the inside of an airport, and you watch as the word Diehard comes across the center of the screen. Chuckles erupt from you and Frank’s immediately turning to face you with a confused pout.

“You think Diehard is the greatest movie of all time?” Your words are unintentionally soaked in disbelief and you swear you can see his defensive guard come up.

“You tryna’ tell me it’s not?! Cause it’s clearly up there!”

“I don’t know, Frank,” you start. Each time the film is brought up around you, you hear that it’s either the best or it’s overrated. You just didn’t expect him to be this much of a fan.

“That’s right! You don’t know!” He seems proud of his argument and even laughs towards the end of his sentence. You shake your head as your smile begins to hurt your cheeks due to how long you’ve been wearing it for. He reaches for the old remote, its buttons faded with its age, and the screen halts to a stop as he presses pause.

“I’ll be right back,” Frank explains with a grunt as he pushes himself off of the couch. You turn and watch him walk to the kitchen, your eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and how they almost brush the open doorframe as he passes through it. Not wanting to let your thoughts continue any more down the path they’re already on, you force your attention back to the television and wait for him to return.

“Here you are,” his deep voice sounds out a moment later and you look up at him. He’s sitting down onto the couch cushion with the fingers of his right hand wrapped around the necks of two beer bottles. He stretches his arm towards you, offering one of the drinks and you’re distracted by the veins running up the inside of his forearm.

“What? S’there somethin’ wrong?” he asks confusedly, his own gaze glancing between your clasped hands and the bottles. You snap out of your trance and stare at the beers again, racking your brain for any excuse to use to decline the drink.

“No, thank you, I’m all good,” your voice comes out stiff. Real smooth, you curse yourself as you see Frank’s expression change. His eyebrows pull together as he tries to understand your sudden and strange behavior.

“So what’s your deal, huh?” he begins, setting the bottles down and leaning back into the couch. His entire body is turned towards you and it’s clear that you’re the new subject of the conversation. You swallow thickly, your nerves already acting up.

“Never seen you drink, never seen you smoke… Hell, I haven’t seen you do much of anything,” he continues, listing his examples off on each finger. “Why is that? You some goody two shoes or something?” he finishes with a raspy chuckle. He reaches for his beer, popping the lid off with the opener from the coffee table and taking a long sip as his eyes meet yours over the glass in his hand.

You wish you could come up with something, anything, to get you out of this situation before you’re forced to confess to him. You open your mouth, expecting your tongue to string the words together for you, but there’s nothing but silence in the room. Quickly, you begin grasping for an explanation, only to be left stuttering over your words. Frank’s eyebrows raise and there’s an amused smirk tugging at his lips as he puts his drink down again.

“Uh oh,” he laughs quietly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He squints at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes flicker all around your face. “There’s somethin’ else there,” he whispers mostly to himself, “gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

If none of this was enough to make your face grow warm, it certainly is now that you’ve heard the pet name leave his mouth. You feel as if you’re curling inward on yourself and you hate that the ground won’t show you mercy by opening up and swallowing you whole. Fidgeting with your fingers, you wonder if there’s any lie you can try and deliver confidently this time. But who are you kidding? You were never good at it, and it’s best to just rip off the bandaid.

With one last glance up at him, you see he’s not going to budge until he gets an answer, so you give him what he’s looking for. “Yeah, that’s… ‘my deal’,” you phrase his words in air quotes. “I haven’t really done, well, anything, and I don’t really know where to start,” you admit, still not looking him in the eyes. Frank nods as he lets your voice fill the air and you notice him making another curious face.

“When you say ‘anything’, what exactly do you mean?” he asks in a softer tone this time, no hint of teasing in his words. It’s then that you finally meet his brown eyes and see the kindness in their warm color. You bring in a deep breath and prepare yourself for the worst possible reaction to your following words.

“Um—,” you cut yourself off with a sigh, letting out all the air in your lungs and attempting to stall the embarrassment a moment longer. “Okay, like drinking, smoking, drugs…” you continue the list and watch him nod after each addition. “Never had sex, never—,”

“Bullshit,” his rumbly voice interrupts you, shaking his head in disbelief. The pout that forms on your lips is involuntary; you feared he wouldn’t have believed it, but you suppose it’s better than him teasing you. From the corner of your eyes you watch his lips part and his jaw go slack as he realizes what you said was the truth.

“Christ, you… you’re serious?” he questions as he looks at you in shock. You only nod silently, not sure how to continue from here. There’s a long pause where Frank is still as stone, remaining silent but seemingly trying to process the new information he’s discovered. The air feels so thick you worry that if you open your mouth to speak you’ll only choke.

The sound of a rumbly chuckle fills the air and you look up to see his wide smile. He’s dragging his palm down his mouth and rubbing his jaw as he shifts his hips forward and leans back into the cushions once more. You feel anger bubbling up and it quickly replaces the mortification that had been consuming you for the past few minutes.

“Screw you! I knew you wouldn’t have taken it seriously.” You cross your arms over your chest as you turn away from him. You felt stupid for sharing this with him, and now he has the audacity to laugh? Over something this personal?

“No, no, sweetheart, hey—,“ the pet name again does nothing to dull the burning under the skin of your cheeks. “I wasn’t teasing it’s just…,” he sighs heavily and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a surprise, y’know?” 

As much as you want to stay upset with him, you’re not sure your resolve can last that long. You attempt to maintain your defensive position and don’t dare soften the angry glare you’re shooting at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he starts, but you don’t budge. “C’mon, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it, s’all. Kinda hard to believe, honestly.” Your head perks up at the last sentence and you shoot him a look of pure disbelief.

“Yeah, well… you’re obviously the only one who thinks that,” you mumble, the self-deprecating words falling past your lips before you even register them. Frank sighs deeply and you notice the way his eyes are flickering all around your face, presumably trying to gauge how upset you are.

“It’s not like I want this,” you huff, deflating into the couch, “but now it’s like even if I want to try stuff, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You begin picking at your fingers as the insecurity grows with his silence. “It’s like everybody did the crash course in high school and they have experience. I don't even know where to start…” As you trail off, the silence becomes deafening and you find yourself missing his laughter because at least that was something.

“Aaaaand I said too much. Sorry, it’s just something that’s frustrated me for years and… yeah,” you decide it’s better to end the conversation than wait on a reply that won’t come.

“You didn’t say too much,” he finally speaks up, and the weight on your chest begins to dissipate. “Was lettin’ you get it all out,” he explains. He holds his chin between his thumb and index finger, grazing his jaw lightly and tilting his head as he thinks over your confession. You find yourself subconsciously holding your breath as you prepare for the worst possible response he could give you.

“Said you didn’t know where to start, right? Why don’t we start with something small, hmm? How about that beer?” Frank nods his head once in the direction of the abandoned bottle he had grabbed for you. You eye it hesitantly and think over the worst that could happen. Coming up with virtually nothing, you nod back to him, deciding it would be one small victory to deal with today. 

As you wrap your fingers around the bottle, you raise your hand and turn to Frank. He mimics you, lifting his own in the air before clearing his throat.

“To…” he trails off, trying to come up with something as a cheer. His eyes drift off to somewhere else in the room, his lips parted as his eyebrows pull together. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his very serious thinking face. Not wanting him to hurt himself from racking his brain much longer, you speak up.

“To trying new things,” you say confidently, and the second the words leave your mouth you’re already regretting them. You physically wince at your word choice and now it’s Frank’s turn to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty lame,” you admit to him. “Sounded better in my head.”

“Think it sounded perfect,” he replies before tilting his bottle towards you. You follow his lead as he brings the drink to his lips and you don’t think twice before tilting your own head back. The second the flavor hits your tongue you can feel your face scrunching up involuntarily. You bring the bottle away immediately and your lips purse at the taste in your mouth. Frank’s laughter rumbles out deep from his chest and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows it down with no reaction. 

“Attagirl, one thing down. That wasn't too hard now was it?” he speaks once he’s brought the glass bottle away from his mouth. Thankfully, the nasty beer is enough to distract you from reacting to his praise.

“You didn’t tell me it tasted like piss!” you exclaim, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand.

“This is actually one of the good ones,” you watch as he takes another swig. “But you’re right, it’s not all that great,” he admits before licking his lips and looking at you.

Any residual awkwardness you felt only moments before has all but vanished and you feel comfort just being here with him. You smile softly to yourself as you brush your thumb along the curved glass of the neck of the bottle.

“Thank you for this,” you speak up, “it feels nice to get something crossed off the list.”

“Any time, kid,” his voice is raspy and you try to dissuade your stomach from doing flips at his tone.

The smile on your face grows wider in the silence, feeling a small amount of pride bubbling in your chest knowing that you tried something new. It doesn’t seem like such a big feat once you’ve climbed over the hill, but there’s always been that fear that keeps you paralyzed and unable to even attempt to move forward. You truly meant your words, you’re thankful that he gave you that little push.

“Y’know, I could help… with the list, I mean.” You’re almost certain you’ve never felt your heart beat quite this hard before. Frank waits until your eyes have locked with his before he speaks slowly, carefully chooses his words as he continues. “O-Only if you want, obviously. Just… said you wish you knew how to do it the first time, right? So it wouldn’t be such a big deal?” You hesitantly nod, still not wanting to assume what he’s proposing until he explicitly says it.

“Yeah, so I figured we could have you practice? Make sure you know what you’re doing before you get out there,” he ends his sentence with a shrug, as if it’s the most nonchalant offer.

“What?” you desperately try to ignore the way your words shake slightly. “Like you’d teach me?” You can’t even help the incredulous tone your words are soaked in. You can hardly even fathom the idea of Frank Castle being the one to show you the ropes, much less actually acting those things out with him.

“Yeah? If that’s alright?” He smiles gently and you feel your body beginning to relax some. “Just… I saw how much it meant to you and I wanna help,” he explains further, and you swear you’ve never seen sincerity like the way it’s shining in his warm, brown eyes.

You swallow thickly as you think over his proposition. It feels like this is some sort of dream; you’re waiting for your alarm to ring out as your vision slowly fades, waking up in your bedroom alone. But no amount of pinching your skin will rip you from this moment. It feels too good to be true, but it’s happening regardless. He’s waiting on an answer and it’s honestly the best offer you could think of being handed to you on a silver platter.

“And hey, you absolutely don’t have to say—”

“Yes,” you finally decide. You can’t even believe you said it.

“You sure?” he asks again, his eyes flickering between your own. You think it’s sweet how he tries to make sure you’re certain of your decision. You smile widely as you nod at him, the butterflies returning to your stomach once again.

“Also, we don’t, like, have to have sex… just so you know. I know that’s a lot, but I can help with the stuff leading up to it?” You grin and nod again and Frank laughs lightly at your response. “Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

“I am! I’m just excited, sorry,” you fidget with the hem of your shirt in an attempt to channel all the newfound energy elsewhere. Frank’s chuckle grows louder and you wonder if you imagined the soft “cute” that was muttered under his breath.

“So…” he speaks up and you turn to face him completely. “How would you feel about crossin’ something else off the list?” You nod immediately as all the nervousness from before switches to excitement while it courses through you.

“Okay…” he laughs softly at your quick reaction. “Let’s see,” he pauses for a moment as he thinks before his eyes light up with an idea. “You ever been kissed?” You feel the familiar shyness creeping up again, but you choose to push it back down. Instead, you just softly shake your head and watch as he nods in understanding.

“You want to try it?” he asks, his lips curling into a smirk. You hum an agreement and watch as he moves a bit closer to you on the couch. Once again you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to be some sort of joke. But Frank only waits for you to take the initiative to close the space between the two of you.

Now that you’re facing each other on the couch, you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage as you wait for him to make the first move. He smiles reassuringly before raising his hand and cradling the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your cheek as his long fingers curl around the back, holding you gently in place.

“You sure you want this?” he confirms. Again, you nod eagerly.

“I gotta hear you say it, sweetheart. That’s my rule,” he explains.

“Oh…” you whisper as you glance between his eyes and his lips, “yes.” You feel your heart swelling at the fact that he wants to make sure you truly want what he’s offering. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, muttering one last, “Okay,” before leaning forward.

The second his lips touch yours, you’re surprised at how soft they are. He’s gentle with his movements and softly sucks your lower lip between his own. It only takes a moment for you to kiss him back, careful to only mimic his actions and still let him lead. The kiss is warm and sweet and you feel the blood rushing through your cheeks and tingling down your neck. His thumb catches your bottom lip and pulls it down slowly, breaking the kiss. Frank breathes gently as he licks his lips, his eyes flickering between yours.

“How was that?” he asks, his breath fanning over your mouth as he speaks.

“It was good. I-I liked it,” you smile sheepishly, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to savor the feeling.

“Yeah?” he tilts his head as the question leaves his mouth, his eyes squinting as he glances from your eyes to your mouth. You once again nod before you even think to do it.

“Alright, now I wanna give you a real one.”

“A real one?” you pout and stare at him confusedly.

He only smirks before leaning forward again, pressing his lips to yours harder. This time, his palm guides your jaw to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss. The stubble lining his jaw scratches at your cheeks, and the prickling has you melting under his touch. You try your best to keep up, but his scent feels like it’s truly suffocating you now; you can hardly kiss him back with how overwhelmed you are. The next thing you register is the wet heat of his tongue brushing along your bottom lip, slowly tracing the shape before he pushes it inside your mouth. His tongue glides against your own and there's a small moan that escapes from your throat.

All too soon his lips leave yours and you open your eyes at the loss of contact. Frank’s own eyes are still shut and you watch as he clenches his jaw, almost as if he’s holding himself back from something.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, worried you messed up somehow.

“Yeah… just, that was the sweetest god damn thing I’ve heard.” His voice is so deep it sends a shiver down your spine. Out of all the times you’ve dreamt of having your first kiss, you never thought it would’ve been that good. And to think, an impulse decision to watch a movie with him led you to this plan to gain experience. You find yourself already missing the feeling of his tongue, of the scratch that his stubble gave when he deepened the kiss.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he knocks your knee softly with his own, attempting to grab your attention. “You’re being too quiet.”

“I just, well, I wanna do it again,” you admit, looking away nervously. In one sudden motion Frank tugs you into his lap and you yelp as you wrap your arms around his neck. He laughs softly as he stares up at you but doesn’t waste a second before kissing you even quicker than before. There’s only a few chances you can take to catch your breath because he hardly breaks the kiss. You never thought someone as attractive as him would want to kiss you this much, but confidence rushes through your body as his affection continues.

Frank’s mouth begins to wander, his lips finding new space that had otherwise been untouched. The corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw—he never stops kissing you until he gets to your throat. From there, his lips part and he begins sucking on your neck. A shaky gasp leaves you as his teeth make purchase on your skin, softly biting before brushing his tongue over the mark.

“Done two new things,” he mutters, his lips moving around the words but never leaving your body. “How’s it feel?”

“I really like this,” you say breathlessly as you feel his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin of your neck. He hums into your throat, the vibration setting your skin alight before you finish your thought, “You can keep the beer though.”

Frank’s chuckle gets caught in his throat, resulting in the cutest snort you’ve ever heard. He presses soft kisses along your collarbone and looks up at you with sweet, brown eyes.

“Sure, kid, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

[pitchsidestories]

Better latte than never II Sam Kerr x Reader

chelsea women masterlist I word count: 629

You loved the first days in autumn, when the leaves in Hyde Park were bursting in the colours of yellow, red and orange, and you could take your morning walk in the crisp air while your girlfriend was still asleep, covered under several blankets because according to the Australian she was always cold. Excitedly you realized that now was the time to get the cinnamon buns from the bakery which laid just across from the home you shared, the lovely smell coming up everytime you passed that building.

On the other hand, Sam hated autumn, when it’s started to get freezing outside, the early evenings were already dark and the iced coffee she was loving so much was not the right beverage for that time of year. So, your plan was to show her the beautiful things September and the upcoming months had to offer, and you would begin today with getting her a pumpkin spice latte in the café you both loved which was a bit hidden from the highstreets of the big city.

“Good morning, love!”, you called her as you entered your bedroom after your running walk through the park. “Morning…“ Her mumble was muted by the blanket that she had pulled over her face. With the coffee in hand, you sat next to her on your unmade bed side. “I got a surprise for you.“, you smiled, hoping that it would help your girlfriend wake up.

She threw off the blanket and blinked at you with tired eyes. “Is it coffee?“ “Yes.“ Carefully, you held out the hot cup for her to take but instead she just eyed you warily. “That’s not iced.“, she said, more a statement than a complaint. You shrugged innocently, “I know. But it’s getting colder outside so I thought something warm would be much nicer in this weather. Just try it.“ When Sam still didn’t react, you added, “I promise I won’t poison you.“

Finally, your girlfriend sat up in her bed, looking absolutely adorable with pillow marks on the right side of her face. The smile on your face grew wider as she finally took the coffee out of your hands. With a sceptical look, she took a big sip. You watched expectantly as she tried your favourite fall drink. Sam grimaced as soon as she tasted the coffee. “What is that? That’s horrible! Thats’s not even coffee!“

You tried to hide your disappointment and covered it with masked cheerfulness: “Sammy, you should start getting ready for training, you know how much Emma hates players who are running late.” This unlocked another groan from the mouth of the striker as she peeled herself out of the warmth from the bed.

Much to your own surprise aswell as your teammates Guro Reiten, Millie Bright, Erin Cuthbert, Sam came back after your lunch break a few days later with two pumpkin spice lattes in her hands. The Scottish midfielder was the first one to speak up: “Sam, I never saw you with anything else than an iced coffee in your hand!” “Well, I guess unfortunately it’s not the season for that, so I needed to find an alternative. To be fair, I did not like it at first, but it reminds me of my girlfriend and turns out I do like a Pumpkin Spice Latte especially on cold and windy fall days.” With these words she handed you the hot drink, while you were thanking her for it.

Maybe the Australian will never love autumn as much as you but you were always sure of her love for you. And you fell for her like the leaves of the tree did in the exact moment while you both were chatting with your teammates who were also one of your closest friends.

Let us know if you enjoyed this short and sweet oneshot. It's the first part in our ☕ Latte League series. ☕

[kepamount]

let me love you

mason mount x reader - one-night stand, smut and fluff

warnings: discussion and consumption of alcohol, brief mention of drugs, brief mention of infidelity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, praise and degradation, crying during sex, asphyxiation, overstimulation, i think that's it but pls lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 10.4k+

rating: M

a/n: hey guys! this is the first instalment of a new trilogy from the ariana grande series! the next two parts after this will be titled safety net and into you (after the two songs ofc), and hopefully it won't take me too long to get those out! this hasn't been proofread so pls forgive any mistakes lol. lmk what you think, hope you enjoy! <3

‘You alright, love? Can I-’ ‘I’m not interested,’ I respond shortly, not even looking in his direction as I pass by, following after Steph and Isla as they lead me through the club. We walked through the front entrance less than a minute ago, and I’ve already had four different guys try it on with me. They must really appreciate my skin-tight, tiny black dress, and the face of makeup I spent an hour doing.

The back room is cut off by a velvet rope, manned by four big and burly bouncers. They don’t even ask for our names or IDs, moving the rope out of our way as soon as we approach and letting us through without a word. I feel myself relax as soon as the curtain falls shut behind us, the music that was blasting in the main room becoming a low pulse in the background so I can actually hear myself think.

‘Benny!’ Steph exclaims when she spots her boyfriend across the room, forgetting about us and rushing over to him. I almost want to remind her that she’s here with her friends, but I can’t be annoyed when I see his face light up at the sight of her, his arms outstretched so she can fall into them, instantly dropping into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

‘You can go to your boyfriend as well, if you want,’ I say amusedly to Isla, the girl already making eye contact with Cal, the boy beckoning her over with a cocky head motion. ‘Nah, it’s girls’ night,’ she says, though she sounds completely unconvincing, and I roll my eyes. ‘Just go. I’ll be fine. Gonna get myself a drink, or five,’ I say drily, Isla laughing. ‘I’ll be back in a couple minutes though, okay?’ she promises, and I nod, watching her go and join him.

Most girls who have just gotten out of a relationship would feel shitty at seeing their friends and their boyfriends together, but I couldn’t care less if I tried. In fact, I’m relieved I’m single now. My ex was so boring that I can’t even remember the last time I was in the club, and it feels good to be back. I’m ready to get drunk as hell, snort some blow and then get a box of 20 nuggets on the way home.

‘Three shots of tequila and a glass of rosé, please,’ I ask the bartender, the boy instantly starting on my drinks as I get my phone out of my bag, checking through my notifications. I laugh to myself when I see that I’ve got seven texts and three missed calls from my ex. Someone must have spotted me at the bar we went to before this place and reported back to him already, so now he’s saying he’ll pick me up and take me back to his at the end of the night if I want him to. I’d rather crash at Steph and Ben’s and have to listen to them having sex in the next room.

‘Lime and salt with the tequila shots?’ the bartender asks, and I nod instantly. Tequila isn’t complete without lime and salt, and I think I’ll need whatever help I can get to stomach these shots. It’s been a while since I drank tequila that wasn’t in a cocktail, and I don’t wanna end up vomiting all over the boujee back room of this club.

‘y/n,’ a vaguely familiar voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Mason Mount standing there, looking heart-flutteringly handsome with his flattering all-black outfit, his perfectly trimmed beard, and his short hair long enough to tangle your fingers into. Not to mention his dark eyes that sparkle brighter even than the thin silver chain around his neck, visible where his top two buttons are undone.

‘Mason. Hi. Long time, no see,’ I reply with a smile, stepping forward to hug him. The last time I saw him, he was so slim, all skin and bone without an ounce of muscle on him, but he’s bulked up since, his arms feeling strong and sturdy when he wraps them around me. ‘It’s been too long,’ he agrees as we break apart, which is kind of him to say.

We’re more acquaintances than friends, and even that feels like a bit of a stretch. My best friends date two of his teammates, so we used to see each other fleetingly at parties or on match days, but we barely spoke when we did see each other, just polite greetings and superficial small talk. And even those encounters became a rarity after I got into a relationship with my ex-boyfriend, a player on a different team, and became a social recluse. Not seeing Mason for so long has made me forget how beautiful he is.

‘Should I give you my condolences or my congratulations?’ he asks with a mirthful glint in his eyes, and I can’t help but let out a little laugh. ‘Congratulations, definitely. I’m glad to finally be free,’ I say drily as the bartender puts a wineglass down in front of me. I pick it up, clinking it against Mason’s whiskey tumbler, both of us taking long sips of our drinks.

‘I didn’t realise you drank,’ I say, knowing that Ben’s in the minority as a footballer who loves a good drink from time to time. ‘I don’t, really. We’ve been here an hour and I’m still on my first,’ he says bashfully, making me laugh. ‘You chose the worst possible spirit. If you don’t drink often, you’re supposed to have a vodka and coke or something. A drink where you can’t even taste the alcohol. Whiskey’s awful,’ I say, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

‘You’re an expert on alcohol then?’ he asks amusedly, the bartender putting my three tequila shots down in front of me just as he finished speaking. ‘Don’t tell me they’re all for you,’ he says with mild shock on his face, and I nod proudly. ‘I’m newly single and everyone here knows it. I need all the help I can get to get through the night,’ I say drily, putting down my wineglass as an idea appears in my mind. It's a terrible idea – the entire room will be watching if I do this, and it’ll only enrage my ex when he finds out – but the boy standing next to me is far too enticing for me to decide not to do this.

‘Can I borrow your hand?’ I ask innocently, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘My… hand?’ he echoes, and I nod amusedly. ‘To take my shots,’ I clarify, the boy still looking lost. ‘You’ve never done tequila shots before?’ I ask, Mason shaking his head, looking intrigued. ‘Can I?’ I ask, holding a hand out to him, and he nods, putting down his drink and resting his hand in mine.

‘So first, you’re supposed to coat your tongue in salt, so that it’s easier to drink the tequila. Traditionally, you put salt on this part of someone’s hand and lick it off,’ I say, running a manicured nail down the skin that connects his thumb to the rest of his hand. ‘And you’re supposed to lick the skin before you even put the salt on,’ I add, the boy raising an amused eyebrow. ‘Go ahead then,’ he prompts, victory unfurling in my chest as I pass him a lime to hold in his empty hand.

I lift his hand to my mouth, eyes locked with his as I drag my tongue along his skin, his pupils dilating as he watches me. I shake some salt out onto the damp part of his skin, licking that up too, my tongue stinging with the sharp flavour. I pick up the shot, knocking it back and trying my best not to wince, before taking his other hand into mine, lifting it so he can put the lime in my mouth, my eyes on his as I suck the juice out of it, the tips of his fingers touching my lips.

‘Bit much just for a shot, isn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, though his darkened eyes and slightly heavier breathing betray him, the boy clearly worked up. ‘People do body shots with tequila, which is even worse. Licking salt and sucking limes off different parts of people’s bodies,’ I tell him, the look on his face making it instantly obvious that his mind is imagining what it would be like to do body shots with me. I wonder which part of my body he’d choose.

‘Well, if you’re about to ask me if you can do body shots in the middle of the room, I’m gonna have to decline,’ he jokes, prompting a soft laugh from me. ‘I have more decorum than to do body shots in public,’ I smile, the boy grinning. ‘Only in private then?’ ‘Only in private,’ I confirm, both of us laughing.

‘Here, you do one of these. Not as a body shot. Just a normal one,’ I say, and he looks conflicted. ‘I’ll set it up for you,’ I smile, licking my own hand and pouring out the salt before picking up a lime, resting it in my exposed collarbone. He’s instantly convinced, a dark grin on his face as he lifts my hand to his mouth. He licks up the salt along with my own saliva on my hand, before picking up the shot and knocking it back impossibly fast, trying to get to the last step as quickly as possible. He slides a hand around to the back of my neck, pulling me closer and leaning down to take the lime, his lips brushing my skin so lightly that I wonder if I imagined it.

He sucks the lime dry, dropping the peel in the empty shot glass with a grin before licking some juice from his lip, my eyes zoning in on the action, my stomach tightening with desire. He really is a beautiful man, and I know I’ll be disappointed if I don’t go home with him tonight.

‘Gonna do your last one?’ he asks, not waiting for my answer before he sets it up, putting the lime between his teeth, a challenging glint in his eyes. Never one to back down, I lick up the salt, knock back the shot, and push myself up onto my tip toes, leaning in and taking the lime from his mouth, being careful not to let our lips touch. If he wants a kiss from me, he’s gonna have to be a big boy and ask for one.

The disappointment in his face almost makes me laugh as I swallow down the sour lime juice, putting the peel and the empty glass down on the bar. I’m suddenly aware of lots of eyes on us, whispered conversation filling the room, and I smile. ‘We got people talking.’ ‘Your ex won’t be happy.’ ‘Forgive me if I don’t particularly care,’ I say drily, sipping on my wine, and the boy grins. ‘Let’s give him something to be really angry about then,’ he suggests, and I raise an intrigued eyebrow.

‘Come home with me. I hate going to the club. Your friends have ditched you for their boyfriends. There’s no reason for us to be here,’ he murmurs, and I feel butterflies fill my stomach, so tempted by the thought. ‘I’ve only been here ten minutes, if that. It feels like a waste of an outfit, and my hair and makeup took ages,’ I say forlornly, and he laughs. ‘I’m enjoying your outfit, babe, and your hair and makeup. It’s not a waste,’ he promises, and I feel myself swaying even more at the pet name. ‘I wanted to get drunk tonight,’ I pout, and he rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘I have loads of wine at home. You can take your pick,’ he offers, and I’m convinced.

‘Okay. Let’s say bye to our friends and then go,’ I say before downing my wine, the boy offering me his arm so I can link mine through it. He leads me over to where his friends sit, Isla and Steph part of the group, and they all try to pretend they weren’t just watching and talking about us.

‘We’re gonna go and get something to eat,’ Mason says, not even trying to come up with a decent excuse, and badly-stifled laughter runs around the group. ‘Those limes didn’t fill you up?’ Ben asks, Steph elbowing him in his side amongst more laughter. ‘Okay. Just text us when you get home,’ Isla says, directing the comment to me, and I nod though I know her and Steph will be checking my location anyway.

‘Look after her, Mount. I’ll kill you if something happens to her,’ Steph warns, Mason nodding seriously. ‘He’ll take care of her, don’t worry,’ Cal says, clearly making a dirty joke, and Isla hits him with her bag as they all laugh again. ‘You’re all so annoying,’ I sigh, the boys laughing even harder at that, and I just wave goodbye to Isla and Steph as Mason leads me away from them and towards the exit.

We have to walk single-file in the main room because of how packed it is, so Mason untangles our arms, clasping my hand tightly in his instead, leading the way around the edge of the room and looking back every few seconds to check I’m okay. I can just imagine the tabloids in the morning, not to mention the blurry photos and videos of us on Twitter and TikTok. The football world and the celeb gossip scene is gonna have a field day with this.

I can’t help the shiver that racks through my body the second we step outside, Mason instantly shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. I don’t even have a chance to protest because the valet approaches us, Mason grabbing his wallet from his pocket, handing the valet his ticket.

‘You drove?’ I ask when the valet goes to get his car, and he nods. ‘So I could make a quick escape if I wanted to. I’ve only had three sips of whiskey.’ ‘And a tequila shot,’ I add, the boy grinning. ‘And a tequila shot,’ he repeats, my phone making several text notification noises a moment later. I get my phone out of my bag, unable to hold back a laugh at seeing that it’s Steph and Isla blowing up the group chat, clearly not as cool, calm and collected about the whole thing as they pretended to be before.

‘The girls?’ he asks amusedly, and I nod with a little sigh. ‘They’re freaking out. Sending texts in all caps to the groupchat,’ I say, the boy laughing. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t say anything when we were still inside.’ ‘Girl code. You have to play it cool. Can’t let the guy get a big head from thinking that it’s a big deal that your friend’s going home with him,’ I tell him, his grin growing. ‘Is it a big deal?’ ‘Kind of, I guess. I’ve been in a relationship for a couple years, and I wasn’t one for… going home with guys even before that,’ I tell him, and he tilts his head thoughtfully.

‘What about after your relationship? You’ve been broken up for a while now, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Yeah. Two weeks since we announced it, but I dumped him about a month ago.’ ‘And you haven’t… had a rebound in that month?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly, the boy looking satisfied at that. ‘I’m honoured.’ ‘You should be,’ I reply, Mason laughing.

The valet pulls up in front of us in Mason’s Lamborghini, jumping out and handing Mason the keys, the boy thanking him graciously which earns him brownie points. Seems basic, but when your ex was rude and arrogant, you appreciate a guy with manners. He opens the passenger side door for me, grinning at my thanks as I climb in, the boy shutting the door behind me before walking around to the driver’s side.

‘Connect your phone,’ he prompts, and I open my Settings app, clicking on the Bluetooth section and scrolling past all my saved devices to connect to his car. ‘Wow. How many cars have you connected to?’ he asks, and I let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. ‘A fair few. I’m a certified passenger princess,’ I claim, flipping my hair over my shoulder, and he just laughs, pulling away from the curb.

‘What music do you like?’ I ask, scrolling through my playlists. ‘I mainly listen to American rap, but I don’t know if that’s the vibe,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘What’s the vibe, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy failing to hold back his smile. ‘Heartbreak music. You just got out of a two-year-long relationship,’ he reminds me, and I scoff. ‘Yeah, right. I was more heartbroken when I was still in the relationship than I am now,’ I laugh, Mason silent for a few seconds.

‘I know you’re probably sick of having this conversation but… what happened with him?’ he asks, and I let out a little sigh, clicking on my ‘gimme the aux’ playlist, full of songs that I play in other people’s cars to prove I’ve got good music taste. Playboi Carti comes on, Mason looking impressed, and I try not to laugh at how successful this playlist is at its purpose.

‘Our relationship got really boring towards the end. He stopped taking me on dates, buying me gifts, even complimenting me. We just spent all our time at home, watching boxsets and having sex. He became really complacent, and I realised that I deserve to be treated like a princess in a relationship, and not taken for granted or made to feel unloved the way I did. I communicated to him that I was unhappy in our relationship, and he turned around and said that he was too and that’s why he slept with the club’s social media girl,’ I say flatly, Mason’s mouth falling open in shock.

‘That is not what I was expecting you to say. Wow. I’m so sorry, y/n,’ he says, and I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. It didn’t really hurt me, because I just wasn’t in love with him anymore towards the end. I felt disrespected and angry, but not upset,’ I say, Mason nodding in understanding as he drives, one hand resting on the wheel whilst the other moves the gearstick every now and then. He’s a sexy driver, completely relaxed behind the wheel, his eyes flitting to the mirrors from time to time.

‘Was he at least good in bed?’ he asks, and I laugh, surprised at the question. ‘He was okay. Not the best, not the worst,’ I say fairly. ‘Same as how he is on the pitch then,’ Mason mutters, surprising another laugh out of me. ‘At least he’s consistent,’ I say, Mason’s response interrupted by my phone suddenly ringing through his car speakers, a familiar phone number appearing on the screen.

‘Spam call?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Sort of. It’s him. My ex,’ I say as I reject the call, Mason’s eyes widening in amusement. ‘No way. You didn’t even change his contact name to ‘dead to me’ or something. Just straight deleted his contact?’ he asks, and I nod with a laugh. ‘For him to be dead to me, I’d have to actually care about him, and I genuinely don’t,’ I say, my phone ringing with another call from him.

‘Please let me answer and speak to him,’ Mason says, and I shake my head instantly. ‘No way. He’ll literally go insane,’ I say, Mason grinning. ‘All the more reason.’ ‘No way. Don’t your teams play against each other soon? He’ll probably go out of his way to injure you if you piss him off,’ I say, Mason scoffing. ‘Yeah, right. I could take him.’ ‘Okay, skinny white boy. It’s not worth the risk,’ I say, Mason looking at me with big, persuasive eyes. ‘I won’t even speak. I just wanna hear what he says to you,’ he says as the ringing stops, disappointment on his face.

‘He’ll phone again. He calls three times and then gives up,’ I say, Mason looking hopeful. ‘And you’re gonna answer this time?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Yeah, okay. If it’ll make you that happy,’ I say, Mason grinning widely. He waits, almost excited for the phone to ring, unable to hold back a laugh when it rings again. ‘Go on, then,’ he prompts, and I press the green button, waiting for it to connect.

‘y/n. Where are you?’ his voice blares out from the speakers, both of us wincing. ‘Fucking hell. Are you shouting directly into your phone speaker? Why was that so loud?’ I complain, my ex letting out an irritated noise. ‘Where are you?’ ‘In a car.’ ‘Whose car?’ ‘Mason Mount’s car,’ I say, Mason grinning at the momentary stunned silence.

‘I didn’t think it was true.’ ‘Who told you?’ ‘Twitter. It’s already everywhere,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Well, yeah. It’s true.’ ‘Why are you in his car?’ ‘What do you mean? We’re driving somewhere. Why else would I be in his car?’ I say irritably, Mason stifling laughter. ‘Where are you driving?’ ‘It’s actually none of your business, at all,’ I remind him, a sigh sounding through the car speakers.

‘I know, but… it’s just killing me to not know what’s going on with you. All the rumours and shit, I just hate it. First, you’ve moved on with Central Cee, and then, you’re getting a marriage proposal from an Indian prince, and now, you’re dating another Prem footballer? It’s driving me insane,’ he says, and I roll my eyes again.

‘You should’ve thought about that before cheating on me and taking me for granted. We’re done now, so you don’t get to ask questions about my life and expect answers.’ ‘Fine, okay. Just at least tell me if you’ve got a new boyfriend now.’ ‘I don’t. I’m single.’ ‘So it’s just casual sex then?’ ‘She’s hanging up now,’ Mason says, a brief stunned silence following his words.

‘Who the fuck do you th-’ ‘Bye!’ I shout, hanging up on him, and Mason and I burst into laughter. ‘Right, I’d better block his number because he’s gonna spam call me now,’ I say, having to reject a call so I can block him. ‘He’s insane.’ ‘Tell me about it,’ I mutter, feeling relieved when I finally block his number.

‘What’s this about Central Cee and an Indian prince then?’ he asks, trying his best to seem relaxed but clearly curious, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Cench and I aren’t dating. We were in the studio together for my next album, and we wanted WingStop, but delivery wasn’t available, so we drove to the nearest one and collected our order instead. People saw me in his car and the rumours started. But the Indian prince stuff is actually true. A prince spoke at some international relations meeting and mentioned wanting me as a wife in his speech,’ I say offhandedly, Mason’s eyes wide.

‘Wow. Have you responded?’ ‘No. How do you publicly reject a marriage proposal from a prince without putting yourself in serious danger?’ I say, Mason laughing. ‘What are you gonna do though? Just ignore it?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Pretend it never happened and pray I don’t run into him until both of us are married so he can’t bring it up,’ I say drily, the boy shaking his head amusedly.

‘So you wanna get married one day?’ ‘At some point, yeah, I think so. Not for a long time, though. I wasted a couple years of my youth being in a shitty relationship, so I wanna enjoy myself for a while now. I don’t think I’ll even start dating again ‘til I’m close to my 30s. I’m more than happy to be single for a while now,’ I say, Mason nodding.

‘Fair enough. Dating again when you’re… 27, 28? Then marriage a few years later. Any kids?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. ‘Definitely. I want a few. At least four. Two boys, two girls,’ I say dreamily, Mason laughing. ‘You can’t choose, y/n.’ ‘I can if I adopt.’ ‘You want to adopt?’ he asks surprisedly, and I shrug. ‘Maybe. It’s always an option. I’m not sure if I have the pain threshold to go through pregnancy, and the idea of giving kids who would ordinarily struggle the chance for a better life and better opportunities seems really appealing to me. Why bring more children into the world when I can help the ones that are already here?’ I say, Mason smiling softly.

‘That’s really sweet. I think you’d make an amazing mother. Biological or adoptive,’ he says kindly, my heart warming. ‘Thanks, Mase. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing parent too,’ I say, the boy grinning. ‘Our kids will be lucky,’ he says, making me choke on my own gasp. ‘Our kids? Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy just looking content with his own joke. ‘Never say never, y/n. You don’t know what relationship we might have in a few years’ time,’ he says in a mystical tone, and I just roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, we’ll see,’ I mutter, Mason just laughing.

We fall into a comfortable silence, Mason tapping his fingers on the wheel in time to the Lil Baby song that’s playing. I shift in my seat, my dress riding up to a point where it’s barely even covering my crotch, and I pull it down, able to feel Mason’s eyes on me as I do so. I can also feel him smirk to himself, obviously amused at how I’m trying to cover up while we’re literally on our way back to his house.

‘Cold?’ he asks, not even waiting for my answer before he turns up the heat. ‘Your jacket’s keeping me warm,’ I say, pulling it closer around me. It’s still holding the heat from his body when he was wearing it, and it holds his scent as well, something fresh and expensive.

‘You look good in it,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. It makes the outfit, I think,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘I did think it was missing something, to be fair,’ I joke, his smile alerting me to the fact that he’s about to make a joke that he’s already very proud of. ‘It was missing the rest of its material,’ he says, and I gasp, hitting his shoulder lightly as he bites his lip to hold back laughter. To be fair, the dress is pretty tiny. The neckline barely covers my nipples and the hem barely covers my ass, not to mention the fact that it’s practically a second skin and it has the thinnest little straps that just about manage to hold it up.

‘Don’t shame me.’ ‘I’m not shaming you! It’s hypocritical to shame something you like, isn’t it?’ he asks with a grin. ‘You like it?’ ‘Yeah, I do. I love your skimpy little dress,’ he laughs, making me roll my eyes. ‘I had to wear something to give me the confidence to walk into a club for the first time in over two years.’ ‘You don’t have to explain yourself. Honestly, I’m just hoping you’re wearing outfits like this every time I see you.’ ‘I’ll wear it to your next match,’ I smile, and he falls into a thoughtful silent for a moment. ‘Actually… maybe not then. I’d end up shooting into our own goal if I spot you in the stands wearing a dress like this,’ he says drily, the car slowing down as he pulls into a familiar residential area.

‘You live around here?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘About thirty seconds down this road.’ ‘I’m literally five minutes away from here. I’m always at the Co-op at the top of the road,’ I say, the boy looking surprised. ‘No way. I’m always there as well. How have we never run into each other?’ ‘I’m glad we haven’t. I always look an absolute mess when I go, and I’m usually buying alcohol,’ I admit, Mason laughing. ‘Should I be concerned about your alcoholism?’ he asks, and I shake my head with a laugh. ‘It’s not that bad, I promise. I barely had a drop when I was with my ex.’ ‘Oh. In that case, drink as much as you want. I won’t even try to stop you,’ he grins, clearly trying to communicate that he’d be better for me thank my ex, and I just roll my eyes amusedly.

He pulls up to his house a few moments later, reversing onto the drive with his head turned, hand on the back of my seat. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not watch him, knowing I’ll probably throw myself at him the second I see him doing the sexy reversing thing. He turns off the engine, climbing out of the car and rushing around to help me out, grinning like he’s proud of himself for being so gentlemanly. He motions for me to lead the way up to the front door, following me up the drive and unlocking the door using the security system keypad set into the brick beside it.

I step into the front hall, slipping off my uncomfortable heels, my feet relieved at being flat on the cold floor. He flicks a switch beside the door as he shuts it behind us, flooding the room with light, and I find myself impressed at how nicely decorated it is. It’s also spotless enough that I can tell it was cleaned today, and I find myself unusually jealous at the thought of some girl cleaning his house. I try to comfort myself with the possibility that his cleaning staff are male, though the thought’s tinged with doubt.

‘Let me get you a drink before you start getting withdrawal symptoms,’ he jokes, stepping around me and leading me to the kitchen. It’s similar to my own, with a big island in the middle of the room, and I admire the furnishings, impressed at his taste in décor. ‘Your house is beautiful,’ I say quietly, not wanting to disrupt the complete silence filling the room. ‘Thanks. My mum helped me choose everything,’ he admits, making me laugh. ‘Well, your mum’s got good taste,’ I say, the boy smiling at hearing a compliment for his mum.

‘Which wine do you want?’ he asks, opening the wine fridge. ‘I’m happy with whatever,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You must have a favourite. Just come and choose,’ he says amusedly, busying himself with getting a wineglass and ice out for me as I look through the many unopened bottles in the fridge. I spot a bottle of Asti, instantly won over, and I get it out carefully, shutting the fridge and bringing the bottle to the island where he’s standing.

‘Why do you have so much wine if you don’t drink it?’ I ask, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he watches me pour out a half glass, dropping in two ice cubes with the little silver tongs he hands me. ‘So I’ve got something to give the girls I bring home after a night out,’ he grins, and I pretend to hit him with the tongs, the boy ducking with a laugh.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking! The wine fridge was already there when I bought the house, and Mum said I might as well just fill it up so it doesn’t look weird, and so I’ve got options for people to choose from when I host,’ he explains, and I nod in understanding, putting the wine bottle back in the fridge as he puts the ice away.

‘So do you do that on a regular basis? Bring girls home after a night out?’ I ask casually, Mason looking amused at my question. ‘Not regularly. A couple times. But I’ve never let them choose their favourite wine from my wine fridge,’ he adds, making me laugh. ‘I guess I’m special then.’ ‘So special, babe.’ ‘I’m honoured,’ I say drily, taking a sip from my glass as he laughs.

‘Can I use your toilet?’ I ask, the boy nodding. ‘It’s just down that way. Door on the left,’ he says, and I walk down the corridor he points at, opening one of the doors. ‘That’s your right, y/n, not your left,’ he laughs as I stop myself from stepping into a store cupboard. ‘Oh. I struggle remembering my left and right.’ ‘Clearly,’ he says amusedly, my eyes landing on something in his cupboard.

‘Wow, this is quite a board game collection,’ I say, Mason coming to stand behind me as I admire the three shelves lined with board game boxes. ‘I know it’s not why you came back to mine but… do you wanna play one?’ he says excitedly, like a big kid. ‘Excuse you, Mason Mount, but playing a board game is exactly the reason I came back to yours,’ I lie, pretending to be outraged by his insinuation, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, right. The only game you came here to play is an adult version of Twister,’ he grins, wiggling his eyebrows, and I can’t help but burst into laughter at the terrible joke, Mason unable to hold back his own.

‘What game shall we play then?’ I ask, and he looks surprised. ‘Wait, you really want to?’ ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of losing to me, Mount,’ I taunt, his competitive streak taking over when he raises a patronising eyebrow. ‘Can’t be scared of something that has a less-than-1% chance of happening,’ he replies childishly, and I scoff. ‘Put your money where your mouth is then. Let’s play,’ I challenge, and he holds out a hand for me to shake. ‘You’re on.’

And five minutes later, here we are. Two grown adults on the carpeted floor of his living room on a Saturday night in our clubbing clothes, two Guess Who? boards set up between us and my wineglass on the coffee table beside us, music playing from his sound system in the background. Mason’s lying on his front, legs outstretched, while I’m sitting with my legs bent to the side, keeping my thighs clamped shut.

‘Okay, shall I start?’ ‘Wait,’ he says suddenly, that mischievous glint in his eyes again, ‘let’s… raise the stakes a bit.’ ‘Don’t tell me you wanna put money on Guess Who?, because that is a low I’m not ready to go to,’ I say with narrowed eyes, the boy laughing. ‘No, not money. What about… clothes?’ he suggests, and I tilt my head in confusion. ‘The loser buys the winner a new wardrobe?’ ‘No, y/n. You lose a round, you lose an item of clothing,’ he grins, and my eyes widen in surprise.

‘Don’t chicken out on me now, babe,’ he taunts, and I roll my eyes, my own competitive streak appearing. ‘I’m no chicken, but it’s unfair on me. You’re wearing way more than I am,’ I pout, and he’s silent for a moment, obviously working it out. ‘No, we’ve got the same. I’ve got socks, boxers, trousers and shirt. You’ve got dress, bra, pants and my jacket,’ he lists off, and I bite my lip, feeling awkward about having to tell him he’s overestimating what I’ve got on. ‘I’m not wearing a bra. Or pants,’ I say quietly, his mouth falling open for a moment.

‘Nothing under your dress?’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Right. I guess that’s not as simple then,’ he says, clearly trying not to laugh, and I don’t reply for a moment, debating whether or not I’m bold enough for this. And then I decide, fuck it. ‘It’s still simple in my eyes. I told you, Mount. I’m not a chicken,’ I murmur, his eyes darkening as he grins. ‘You’re sure?’ 100%.’ ‘Let’s do it, then,’ he says, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

We start the most competitive game of Guess Who? ever, both of us aggressively tapping down the tiles on our boards. I win the first round, downing half of my wine in celebration as he pulls his socks off. He throws one at me, my scream as I bat it away making him burst into laughter. He wins the next round, and I reluctantly take off his jacket, resting it on the sofa as he gives me a greasy grin, bursting into laughter again when I lean over to swat at him.

‘You’d better pray you don’t lose the next round,’ he says, sitting up with his shoulders in a competitive stance, and I smile confidently. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to,’ I promise, and I’m right. I win the next round, managing to guess correctly when I still have six people left to guess from, and his mouth falls open at how lucky I am.

‘What shall I take off then?’ ‘You’re letting me choose?’ I ask, the boy nodding, lips quirked up in amusement. ‘Shirt. Obviously,’ I say, the boy laughing as his hands lift to undo the buttons on his shirt. Our eyes are locked together as he shrugs his shirt off, but once he’s shirtless, I can’t resist the temptation to let my gaze slide over his bare torso, muscles and tan skin and tattoos galore. Desire settles low in my stomach as he watches me admire him, a darkly satisfied look on his face. His light-hearted and jokey side is slowly melting away, leaving a very intimidating side in its wake.

‘When you’re finished… I’m ready to beat you again,’ he says in a low tone laced with mirth, and I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t bet on it, babe. I’m winning this round as well,’ I say with conviction, and I’m right again. It comes down to the wire this time, pretty much anyone’s game, but I manage to scrape the win at the last second, the boy looking outraged that he didn’t.

He stands up as I sip victoriously on the last of my wine, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers before pushing them down his strong legs and kicking them aside. I feel my pulse quickening as I look up at him standing there in nothing but his Calvins, a noticeable tent in them already. He grins at me as he sits back down, and I avoid his amused gaze, resetting my Guess Who? board.

‘Last round,’ he reminds me, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, knowing what’s coming right after this round. He doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to win, but my nervousness distract me from concentrating, and by the time he makes his guess, I’ve still got half my board up. I can’t even muster up the disappointment at losing, too on edge about the fact that I’m about to strip off my dress to leave myself naked in Mason Mount’s living room.

‘Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?’ he asks amusedly, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his elbows. ‘Too much to drink,’ I say weakly, the boy sighing. ‘y/n, if you’ve changed your mind, you can say so. Don’t worry ab-’ ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just… I haven’t slept with anyone other than my ex in the last three years. And almost every time we slept together, it was boring and never felt special. It was just a really dull part of our routine. This is different. I feel nervous,’ I admit, Mason chuckling softly.

‘Come here,’ he says softly as he pushes the Guess Who? boards aside, speaking in a tone that no-one would ever be able to say no to, and I crawl across the carpet towards him. When I reach him, he slides an arm around my waist, effortlessly lifting me to straddle him, his bulge pressing directly onto my core.

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about, y/n. We’ll take this as slowly as you want to, and we don’t have to do it at all if you decide you don’t want to. There’s only one thing I want you to feel tonight, and that isn’t anxiety,’ he murmurs, one of his hands resting on my back as he lifts the other hand to brush a lock of hair back from my face, butterflies exploding in my stomach.

‘We can play another game if you want? Or I can get you another glass of wine before you start getting withdrawal shakes?’ he jokes lightly, and I can’t hold back my giggle, the boy smiling at the sound. ‘I’m okay,’ I say, lifting my hands to rest on his bare chest, his skin hot against my palms. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I don’t want games, or wine. All I want is you,’ I say shyly, his grin growing. ‘That works out well then.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I’m already yours, babe,’ he murmurs, sliding his hand up to the back of my neck and pulling me closer.

My eyes slide shut as he kisses me, his lips pushing mine apart and his tongue sliding into my mouth. The kiss is sweet wine and bitter tequila, my head going light at the taste of him on my mouth while his hands roam up and down my sides. I slide my hands up his chest to the back of his neck, using my grip on him to press my torso against his, accidently rocking forward against his bulge. The friction makes me whimper into his mouth, and he groans at the noise, gripping my waist to press me down again, stealing the breath from each other’s mouths as though the only air that works for either of us comes from each other’s lungs.

The kiss escalates quickly, my hands gripping onto his hair as his fingers press into my waist tightly enough to leave bruises, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us moaning into each other’s mouths. His skin is so hot against mine, and I realise I want to touch every inch of it, my hands sliding down from his hair to explore the curves and ridges of his strong body.

‘Can I?’ he asks against my lips as his hands slip down to my thighs, tips of his fingers playing with the hem of my dress. I hum into the kiss as response, his hands instantly disappearing under my dress and sliding over my bare skin, pulling the material up with them. We break apart briefly so he can pull it over my head, throwing it over his shoulder as he reconnects our lips, my boobs smushed against his chest. His hands explore my completely naked body as I continue grinding down onto him, unclothed core dripping arousal all over his underwear.

‘Fuck, you’re so wet. I need to…’ he breathes into my mouth, lying back and bringing my body down on top of his before rolling us over, the soft carpet against my skin as he hovers over me. ‘Can I touch you?’ ‘Please,’ I whisper, his hand instantly moving down to push my legs apart, two fingers lightly swiping across my folds to collect up my arousal. He lifts his hand to his mouth, tasting me on his skin, and he lets out an appreciative noise.

‘You taste so good, babe,’ he praises, slipping the two fingers between my lips, and I suck on them gently, able to taste myself. He takes his hand from my mouth, replacing it with his own mouth and capturing my lips in a kiss, absorbing the moan I let out when he pushes those two fingers into me. He remains still for a few moments to let me adjust, distracting me from the stretch with a messy kiss, tongues and teeth clashing.

He breaks away from me when he starts moving his fingers, slowing sliding them in and out of me, my walls fluttering around them as I bite down on my lip to hold back any noises. His eyes are trained on my face, watching intently for my reactions as he presses his thumb down on my clit, my back arching up from the floor as my breath catches in my throat.

He curls his fingers inside me, a pathetic whimper escaping my lips, and he fails at trying to hold back his satisfaction at the sound. ‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, half-soothingly and half-patronisingly, his tone making me gush around his fingers. He’s trying his best to take it slow but he can’t resist increasing his pace, rocking his hand against me so his palm rubs my clit whilst his fingers move inside me, little moans falling from my lips every few seconds.

‘That’s it, babe, good girl. Let me hear how good it feels,’ he prompts with a small grin, replacing his palm with his thumb and rubbing hard and slow circles on my clit, forcing a desperate whimper out of me. I look up at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s still watching me, eyes studying my face as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my back arches up again, a gentle moan escaping my lips.

‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mutters, fingers curling inside me again, and I can’t help but clamp my thighs together, overwhelmed at the sensation. ‘Want me to stop?’ he asks, hand stopping its movements, and I shake my head desperately, needing him to stop but needing him to carry on even more. He grins amusedly as he pulls one of my legs up so it bends at the knee between our bodies, allowing his fingers to go even deeper inside me. ‘Fuck, Mason,’ I breathe out when his fingers brush against that spot inside me, and he curses under his breath at hearing his name on my lips.

I clutch at the carpet as his fingers continue to thrust into me at a ever-quickening pace, an obscene squelching filling the room. ‘God, you’re so wet. Soaking my carpet, dirty girl,’ he chuckles, and I let out whine after whimper as he starts to bring me to the edge. ‘You’re doing all the work now, y/n. Feels good, baby?’ he asks softly, tone laced with cockiness, and I only realise after he says it that I’m grinding down onto his hand, each movement sending gentle waves of pleasure through me.

My body squirms beneath his, walls clenching around him, and he knows that I’m close, his pace quickening as he whispers honeyed filth into my ear. ‘Close, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, letting out a loud moan. ‘Fuck, bet my neighbours are gonna come knocking soon with a noise complaint. But how could anyone complain about your pretty noises, babe?’ he grins, the thought of being heard only prompting a fresh wave of arousal that soaks his skin.

‘Fuck, Mason, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, feeling myself get closer with every brush of his thumb at my clit and every curl of his fingers inside me. ‘Gonna cum, babe? You wanna cum on my fingers?’ he whispers against my ear, and I just let out a moan in response, teetering at the edge. I’m so close, and then he takes his fingers out of me, my orgasm disappearing within seconds, and I whine, eyes filling with tears of frustration and desperation.

‘Don’t complain, babe. I’m not done,’ he murmurs soothingly as he moves down my body, pressing kisses my skin. He briefly sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, making me sigh in pleasure, before continuing down my body, pushing my legs apart so he can settle between them.

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately burying his head between my inner thighs and sucking my clit into his mouth. I let out a moan of his name, fingers tangling into his hair as he alternates between flicking his tongue over my clit and slurping at my folds noisily like a man starved. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to build up again, and I fall over the edge when he pushes his tongue inside me, his nose pressing against my clit.

My vision goes blurry as I moan out loudly, fingers gripping onto his soft locks for any form of stability as the pleasure crashes through my body in strong waves, my limbs tense and tight. As my orgasm subsides, my body goes slack beneath him, and he takes it upon himself to continue eating me out. I whine at the overstimulation, body squirming as he sucks and flicks my clit whilst thrusting one finger into me.

‘Mase, I can’t. It’s too much,’ I whimper between moans, tears steadily running down my face, and when he finally gives me reprieve, I let out a long sigh of relief, a dark grin on his face as he sits up on his knees. ‘You’re not done already, are you, babe? Haven’t even let me fuck you yet,’ he murmurs, slipping a hand into his Calvins and touching himself, my core flooding with arousal at the sight.

I sit up, pulling his underwear down just enough to free his cock, mouth-watering at the sight of it. I can’t resist from leaning down and sucking the head between my lips, his salty pre-cum coating my tongue. ‘As much as I’d love to feel your mouth right now, babe, I’d love to be inside you even more. Gonna let me fuck you?’ he asks as I sit up, and I nod shyly, his grin growing.

‘Let me grab a condom from ups-’ ‘No, don’t. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,’ I say, his eyes darkening. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Are you clean?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Then, yeah, I’m sure. I wanna feel you raw,’ I breathe out, his pupils blown out completely with lust. ‘Fuck. Yeah. Okay, then. How d’you want it?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. Missionary’s always been my favourite – I’m a simple girl – but for a one-night stand with a friend of a friend, it feels a bit too intimate. The last thing I need is to stare into his pretty eyes while he fucks me. I’ll end up falling in love.

‘From behind,’ I murmur quietly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he grins, making me question if I’m imagining it. ‘Get on your hands and knees for me, babe,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, anticipating his touch on me. And then he smacks my ass harshly, making me let out a pained yelp, before he rubs the area soothingly.

‘This is fucking perfect,’ he mutters, groping my ass cheeks like a horny teenage boy, and I push back into him, needing him to fuck me. ‘Okay, okay, I get the hint,’ he laughs, his hands disappearing from my ass a moment later. I let out a moan the second I feel him running the head of his cock down my folds, another escaping my lips when he begins pushing into me.

‘Good girl. That’s a good girl,’ he says, voice soft and soothing as he slowly sinks into me, the slightly painful stretch tearing a sob from my throat, and he rubs my back soothingly as he bottoms out. ‘Feels so big,’ I whimper, and he chuckles lightly, his ego obviously inflated. ‘You’re taking it so well, babe,’ he praises as he stays still inside me, allowing me to adjust. ‘Please, Mason, move,’ I plead, and his hands stop rubbing, gripping my waist instead. ‘Sure?’ he asks, though I can feel that he’s practically itching to fuck me. ‘Yes, need you,’ I breathe out, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer.

He pulls out before slamming back in, winding me. He’s ruthless, pounding into me so hard that his balls slap against my thighs, hands digging into my waist, both our skin damp with sweat. My head falls forward, and he leans over to grab my hair in one hand, tugging it to hold my head up, the pull only slightly painful. He fucks into me, hard, with no restraint, my head bent back at an uncomfortable angle, my moans projecting around the room. ‘Does my pretty baby like being fucked like this?’ he asks, the pet name making me gush, and my moans seem to be answer enough for him, a strained chuckle falling from his lips.

He props one foot up on the floor, allowing him to hammer into me at a bruising pace, cock filling me up completely, having me completely blissed out. ‘You take it so well, babe. So well. You take it like such a good little slut,’ he breathes out between grunts, and it’s heart-stopping, toe-curling, tear-inducing, the way he’s fucking me, so good I can’t think of anything but him, and how fucking amazing this feels.

My arms give way before I can realise how much they’re aching, and I fall face first into the carpet. ‘Shit, baby, I’m sorry. Are you tired?’ he asks gently, his cock stilling inside me, and I try to lift myself back up, desperate to feel him again. He slips an arm around my stomach and, at first, I think he’s just trying to help me back into position but, instead, he pulls me all the way up so my back is pressed to his front, my body weight resting partially on my knees but mainly on him.

He continues fucking into me in this new position, but at an agonisingly slow pace. He rocks into me, cock dragging against my walls leisurely, and I can feel it even more like this, can feel every inch filling me up and stretching me out. I let out a loud moan of his name and he slips two fingers into my mouth to shut me up.

‘You’re so loud, babe. Gonna have the neighbours knocking on the door, but I don’t wanna rush. Wanna take my time with you. Isn’t that what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you nice and slow?’ he murmurs against my ear, and I let out a garbled moan around his fingers, my wetness dripping down my own thighs.

He takes the sound as a yes, grinning against my neck as he fucks me deep, and I whimper and whine around his fingers as he lets out sinfully soft grunts and groans against my skin. He brings a hand to rest at the base of my neck, fingers still in my mouth. ‘Feels good?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod as my eyes roll back, a little laugh falling from his lips.

His hand around my neck tightens, cutting off my airways slightly, and I let out an unintelligible string of curses around his fingers, my breathing quickly becoming laboured. I clench around him sporadically, quickly feeling my high approaching, and he can feel it too, keeping his torturous pace with a smirk pressed to the side of my throat.

He releases my neck after a few moments and I gasp for air, my inhale cut off when he puts a hand on my forehead and pulls my head back far enough for us to make eye contact, his face just as handsome upside down. His eyes are dark, skin flushed, and hair pasted down to his forehead with sweat.

‘Fuck, you’re so pretty, babe. This body is so perfect. So beautiful, and so good for me, with your pretty noises. My pretty baby,’ he murmurs, my body weakening and my heart skipping beats at all the praise. I’m so close, but I just need more – his pace is mind-blowing, and the dirty talk has butterflies going wild in my stomach, but it’s not enough to push me over the edge.

‘Faster, Mase,’ I mumble around his fingers, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘You’re crying, babe. You can’t even handle this, and you want it faster?’ he chuckles before complying, pounding into me hard enough that the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, filling my ears along with the sounds escaping my lips. He slips his fingers out of my mouth, reaching down to rub at my clit in circles fast enough to match his thrusts, and I’m hurtling towards my orgasm.

‘Close, babe? Gonna cum for me? Come on, baby, it’s gonna feel so good,’ he breathes against my ear, one hand groping my boobs whilst the other keeps a steady pace at my clit, and the mixture of all the different sensations whilst he whispers filth in my ear makes me hit my high, my mouth falling open in a silent scream before letting out a moan of his name.

My walls clamp down around him so tightly that he can’t even move, so he keeps rubbing my clit to get me through my orgasm, murmuring praise and encouragement in my ear before pressing soft kisses to my skin. When I start coming down from my high and my walls loosen around him, he pushes me down so I’m resting on my elbows, his hands gripping onto my waist. He pounds into me, chasing his own orgasm, and it washes over him within a few seconds, the sexiest moan of my name falling from his lips as he fills me up with his cum.

For a long few seconds, the quiet music and our heavy breathing are the only noises in the room, and I take a while to try and compose myself with my head resting on the carpet. ‘You okay, babe?’ Mason asks breathlessly as he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, and I turn over to look up at him, nodding with a small smile. He grins at me, pushing my legs apart to watch his cum drip out of me, eyes trained on my face as he collects it up with two fingers and pushes It back into me. I try to say his name reprimandingly, but it comes out as a moan, and he chuckles as I push his hand away.

‘Come on. Let’s… get you cleaned up,’ he says, easily lifting me up into his arms and carrying me out of the room bridal-style. He takes me up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, putting me down gently on the bed. He puts on a lamp and disappears into what probably is an en suite bathroom, coming back with a damp towel a few seconds later.

‘Your house… really is lovely,’ I say through a yawn as he cleans me up with the towel, wiping up all the sweat on my skin, the saliva around my mouth and the cum between my legs. ‘After what just happened, you’re thinking about my décor?’ he laughs, and I roll my eyes. ‘I mean, to be fair, my head was in your carpet, and it was very soft, so…’ I say, trying to keep a straight face but unable to hold back my giggle when he bursts out laughing.

‘Do you want some clothes? A t-shirt or a hoodie? And you can borrow some of my boxers if you want underwear,’ he offers, and I laugh. ‘I’ll sleep like this. If you don’t mind,’ I add afterwards, though the look on his face clearly shows that he really doesn’t mind at all. ‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ he grins, getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom again. I stare at the ceiling, already getting flashbacks about what just happened, feeling myself getting wet again. I’m praying he doesn’t have training early tomorrow because I need him again in the morning.

I listen to what he’s doing, hearing the tap running and then shutting off a little while later before he comes back into the room. I listen to him leave, his footsteps going down the stairs, light switches being flicked and the music being turned off before his footsteps come back up and he steps into the room. I look over, the boy grinning at me. He’s wearing new underwear and looking fresher, like he’s splashed water on his face and combed his hair. He climbs into the bed beside me, sitting with his head resting against the headboard, back on the pillow. I move to lie in the circle of his arm, my head on his chest, and I can hear his heart beating through his skin.

‘So… gonna let me take you on a date?’ he asks suddenly, and I don’t react for a few seconds. ‘Um… no way.’ ‘No?’ he asks, sounding surprised, and I sigh. ‘Nope. I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship anytime soon,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘A date doesn’t equal a relationship, y/n,’ he says, and I lift my head to look up at him, arms resting across his chest.

‘Yeah, but one date with me is all it would take for you to fall in love,’ I say as though it’s obvious, and he nods amusedly. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’ ‘Yes. I don’t have the time, patience or energy to deal with someone being in love with right now,’ I say dramatically, though we both know I’m speaking the truth, and he just nods thoughtfully.

‘Okay. If you don’t want me to love you, then at least let me… love you,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘You mean physically instead of emotionally, right?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Yeah. Let’s turn this into a thing. No strings attached and all of that,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘What makes you think I’d wanna do this again?’ I ask jokingly, and he clutches his chest like he’s hurt. ‘Your moans and your crying made me think you’d wanna do it again,’ he says, and I cover my face in embarrassment, the boy laughing.

‘Okay, yeah. We can turn this into a thing. You just have to promise me that you’re happy with this not being serious, that you won’t let any feelings get involved.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise me you won’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise m-’ ‘y/n!’ he laughs, ‘we’re gonna be friends-with-benefits. Nothing more. I promise. Okay?’ he says, and I nod amusedly, putting my head back down on his chest. He strokes my hair gently as I trace lines over his abs and, before I know it, I’m drifting off, the steady beat of his heart lulling me into sleep.

[ladymarycrawley]

Welcome to my Mason Mount masterlist! Enjoy it and feel free to leave your feedback 🤍

Forbidden but delightful (fluff)

Wet celebration (smut)

The blondie I'm in love with (fluff)

Love has no boundaries (fluff - angst)

The cure (fluff)

Some alone time for mummy and daddy (fluff - smut)

🎄 My Xmas gift (fluff - angst) 🎄

🎄 You make it feel like Christmas (fluff) 🎄

Beautiful boy (fluff) part 1

Beautiful boy (fluff - angst) part 2

Just give me a break (angst)

Daddy's biggest fans (fluff)

What if I'd ask you out (fluff) part 1

What if I'd ask you out (fluff - smut) part 2

Meant to be (fluff)

Time to leave (fluff)

Beach days and starry nights (fluff)

Got a bed with your name on it (smut)

Daddy's little princess (fluff)

The love you deserve (fluff - angst)

Forehead kisses in Monaco (fluff)   part 1

Forehead kisses in Monaco (fluff)   part 2

I think I wanna marry you (fluff)

Picnic date (fluff)

Good old hair (fluff)

Something worth trying (smut) featuring John Stones

Inopinatum expectes (angst)

I hate you, don't leave me (angst - fluff)

Allergy emergency (fluff) ft. Chelsea boys

Mc Flurry Mount (fluff)

Can I be your boyfriend? (fluff - hint of angst)

Baby daddy (fluff)

We'll be a family (fluff - angst)

More than just friends (smut)

You'll always be my champion (fluff)

I know you too well (fluff)

Three's a crowd (smut) featuring John Stones

Happy Mother’s Day (fluff)

Mrs Mount (fluff)

Angel baby (fluff, hint of angst)

For the first time (smut - fluff)

Perfect to me (angst - fluff)

Two can play that game (fluff)

Say it with a letter (fluff)

Destress (smut - fluff)

🎄 A very kissy Christmas (fluff) 🎄

Insatiable (smut)

You’re my everything (fluff)

Think before you shave  (fluff) part 1

Think before you shave (hint of smut) part 2

Morning together (hint of smut - fluff)

It all started with a charity dinner (smut - fluff)

Lazy Sunday (fluff)

I’ll take care of you (fluff)

Good girl (smut)

Ballon D’Or nominee (fluff)