summary :: you love paul's muscles, who doesn't! so you ask him to use it more in the bedroom, which he eagerly does.
f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || OVULATING CELLY!!!
"Choke me with your muscles" is a common phrase you said to him. Whenever he was working out, in the stim, or just existing, you couldn't keep your horny thoughts to yourself. And who could blame you when you have Paul Aron cooking you dinner?
He's not embarrassed of these comments either, instead he embraces them. He loved knowing you loved his body, he worked hard for it. And hearing how much you loved his muscles and the idea of choking you made him ask you about it seriously.
Because although he's never tried it before, he's seen it in a few videos before. Plus, he'd be lying if he said his dick didn't jump every time you mentioned him choking you. But what he didn't know is you wanted the whole 10 miles, or kilometers in his terms.
You didn't just want his hands on your throat, you wanted him to control your breath. To completely shut off your airways and watch you turn blue, only to grant you with air when he felt deserved. And that was such a power rush to him.
So he had you on top of him, bouncing on his dick while he looked at you with such love and lust in his blue eyes. His eyes were captivating, drawing you in like a siren. You knew you just had to keep bouncing until he was satisfied. But you were so tired.
Your knees were giving out, your back hurt from your good posture, and your knuckles were turning white from gripping his shoulders so hard.
"Kallis." (darling) Paul's tone was sharp, clearly threatening you. "Are you tired already?" His tone was condescending and a warning to you.
You shake your head no, but you body was too honest. Your hips weren't moving properly, thighs were shaking, and your grip was becoming much harsher. But you wanted to satisfy him, give him as much pleasure as he was giving you.
"Are you lying?" He said with a scoff, as his hand met your throat. And instantly, you clenched around him. Making him look down at where your bodies were connected to make sure what he saw was correct. "My god," He smirks and scoffs again. "You're so pathetic."
His grip on your throat tightens, his entire hand basically wrapping around your entire neck. His muscles weren't just for show either, as he raised his arm slightly, making your entire body move with it. You could feel the air being scarce. It excited you, which just made Paul stare at your face.
"Really?" His tone was so condescending, so mean. "Do you even deserve to be fucked though?"
You nod eagerly, not wanting him to stop. But you could barely move your head since his hand was right under your chin. You part you lips, wanting to say yes but you couldn't with the limited air supply you have.
"You can't speak?" He smiles at you, enjoying this kink too much. "Well I can!" he brags and laughs at his own joke.
As he stares at you, barely on his dick, hoisted slightly in the air by his strength - he gets a fun idea. His free hand reaches for your stomach putting his palm flat against your belly. His grip on your throat loosened slightly, letting you take a fresh breathe of air.
"Open your mouth." He commands, you obey.
And with a swift move, he presses his hand aggressively against your stomach. Which made all the air you had saved rush out. And his hand on your throat tightens instantly. Forcing you to run on less than an ounceof air.
You could feel the panic rise in you. Your throat was desperately trying to save you by trying to gasp. But you couldn't with his strong grip against you. And if this wasn't enough to make you breatheless, Paul moves his hand from your stomach to your hips.
Slamming you back down onto his dick. And his hips start moving, thrusting in and out of you at such speed whilst choking you. He stared at you, his blue eyes suddenly matching your face. You were turning blue, feeling your face lose it's warmth.
And Paul just smiled, cooing at you. "Don't pass out, that's not fun for me." He mocks you. "Do you wanna breathe?"
Your head slightly drops, feeling as if your head was 1,000 pounds. And his cocky-self just hoists you back up into the air, meeting your eyes. Despite you having the high ground, you knew damn well you weren't in control.
He stared at you, his smile never leaving. Your eyes fluttered, feeling too heavy as you felt your brain begin to shut down. But right when that happened, his grip on your neck was gone and placed onto your other hips. Both of his hands then slammed you back onto him.
A loud groan left his lips as your weak body collapsed onto his chest. You felt your body gasp for air, doing its best to keep you alive. A few coughs escaped your lips. But Paul didn't give a fuck, as he kept moving your hips insync with his thrusts.
Once you had enough air, you finally let out a moan. Which completely halted his movements. And you could already tell he was smirking down at you yet again.
"If you can moan, that means you're recharged." He says, grabbing both of your shoulders and forcing you to look him in the eyes. And you were right, he was smiling yet again. And before you could even try to beg him to be gentler, your throat was covered again and he pushed all the air out of your stomach.
And he started thrusting yet again. But this time, he was much rougher. Repositioning you both so that you were lying down on the bed while he towered over you. Making the hand on your stomach much more heavy, ensuring you had no air stored in your body.
You were so close to just losing consciousness. Being on the brink of just being a corpse stuck on Paul's dick. Of course, you would surely get your air back and breathe again. But your body was ready to give up, despite your pussy clenched around him even harder than before.
"God, maybe I could fuck you, augh, even passed out." He says with a groan. "That's okay right?"
A harsh thrust up to your guts makes your entire head fuzzy. "Right?" You hear but it's too late for you to even answer. As your eyes shut close.
a/n: sorry i disappeared again!!! pls take this as my apology
It was supposed to be just pictures of him during the break. You expected innocent, somewhat average snapshots of how Paul spent his past two months. You knew he took that trip to Italy, attended his sister's graduation, did some training. It was your job to be at least a little updated on the drivers' whereabouts, in case the head of comms needed you to capitalize on it for content.
So when you received a few photos from Paul through iMessage of all his fall whereabouts, you didn't think much of it. You messaged him a few days earlier asking if he could send a few more unreleased pictures that he hadn't posted on his personal account yet, stating that it was for a post you were putting together for the Hitech Instagram. He was delayed in his reply, as usual, but that's something you expected. He was busy, after all.
Perhaps too busy to notice the outlier in the stack of photos displayed in your message thread. Everything seemed to be normal at first; Italian architecture, gym photos, the cheesecake he made. Typical day in the life photos.
And lastly, a photo of him in dim lighting, taken in front of a mirror, with nothing but shadows covering most of his naked body.
You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Your first instinct is to wait to see if Paul has anything to say, an apology, maybe, or a half-assed excuse. Anything to indicate that he noticed how he sent you a full-on nude. You prepare yourself for the three dots that show he's typing, the frantic scramble to delete the photo from your exchange, but it never comes. Heat rises up your neck as you realize you're going to have to confront him about it. This was, after all, a professional exchange and you'd hate for HR to come knocking at either one of your doors.
-Paul, please review the photos you sent. Thanks.
You regret it as soon as you send it. Was that perhaps too snippy? Too callous? It was as embarrassing for him as it was for you, maybe even more. But come on, how hard is it to distinguish your nudes from your vacation photos?
The loud throb of your heartbeat reverberates in your ears as you wait, cursing under your breath as a full minute passes and then another. You lock your phone, getting up to pace around your room. You're most likely going to see him tomorrow as he'll be at HQ for sim work and other things and you just so happen to have a lineup of meetings at the very same time. You're going to have to face the fact that you'll have to look each other in the eye after you've seen the outline of his dick.
Wonderful.
You unlock your phone, resigning to just delete the photo from your side. You can claim plausible deniability or whatever legal term it is, if it comes down to it.
Just then, Paul starts typing.
You yelp, setting your phone down on the desk harder than intended.
You realize belatedly that you're holding your breath, fingers pressed into your mouth as if suppressing any more potential noises. He stops then starts again then stops, as if he's unsure of what he's typing out.
-I'M SO SORRY!!!! It was an accident I promise 🥹 Don't report me
-Please I'm so sorry it's totally my fault ______ 😭😭😭
-______ please I'm so sorry
Somehow, despite everything, this coaxes a chuckle out of you. Paul was always open and easy around you, and you know he knows you won't report him for an honest mistake. He's probably just red in the face right now, fighting his inner demons.
You type out a reply to ease his nerves.
-I'll just delete it off my phone so no one can say we were fraternizing inappropriately 🥲
The response from Paul is almost instant.
-YES please I'm sorry again
Your finger hovers over the photos when another message comes in.
-Unless you want to save it for a rainy day that's okay too
-I WAS JOKING its a joke I'm sorry I'm sorry
You groan, throwing your head back against the backrest of your office chair.
He's done this on occasion. Flirt. Compliment you on your hair, your outfit (despite it being the team uniform), your smile, even. You brushed it off as typical driver behavior. Nearly all of them had that kind of nerve about them, a confidence that only comes with driving cars that are closer to rockets than actual cars on the street.
Bringing the phone up to your face, you gingerly scroll back up to the photos Paul sent, opening the accursed photo. Your breath hitches as you take it in more carefully, the light cutting sharply between the shadows of whatever hotel room Paul was in. Your eyes trail down and your fingers pinch at the screen, zooming in.
"No! No, no, absolutely not," you admonish yourself, swiping the photo away and typing back a slightly crazed reply.
-Whoever that photo was meant for might not like it if I do
-
"________!"
You freeze on your way out the door from the conference room, Paul's figure jogging toward you from the other end of the hall. The presence of some execs and the head of comms looms from behind you and you quickly shuffle out of the way to let them pass, all of them greeting Paul as he sidles up to you.
"Hi!" You say a little too brightly, turning to Paul, arms coming up mechanically then stopping, your brain reminding you that a hug might be too awkward but standing around without greeting him in some way would be just as weird. A flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach as Paul stops in front of you, his cologne coming off strong as always. Just the way you liked it.
"How's the meeting?" Paul asks, gesturing to the room. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he has that you've observed over the time you've worked with him. He has his hands shoved deep in his jeans, too.
You shrug, forcing out a laugh. "Same old, just going over social media plans and PR."
Paul nods, a little too eagerly perhaps. His eyes shift to the retreating personnel, all of them turning a corner, leaving you and Paul alone in the vicinity.
"Were you waiting for me?" You ask before he can say anything else.
Paul swallows. "Yeah. Look–"
"Paul," you cut him off, raising a hand between the two of you. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Happens to the best of us."
He raises an eyebrow at that. "Have you ever sent a nude to the wrong person before?"
Your cheeks flare up in a violent blush.
"Well, no. And keep your voice down," you berate lightly. Paul looks around and shrugs as if to say, 'Nobody's here'.
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "But what I meant was, like, messages are sent to the wrong people all the time, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, and besides, no one else knows. I promise I haven't told anyo–"
"Okay." It was Paul's turn to cut you off. "Okay, I believe you."
He smiles at you good-naturedly, opening his arms and coaxing you into a hug. It takes you a second, but eventually, you let yourself laugh in relief, wrapping your arms around his strong frame.
"I missed you over the break," Paul admits, pulling away and holding you at arm's length. You blush again, masking it with a chuckle.
"Well, the break isn't over yet. We still have three weeks to go," you remind, your own hands coming up to settle on Paul's outstretched arms, making it look as if you're holding him in place. To anyone who didn't know, you two would look like a couple deep in discussion.
"At least you get to see me more," Paul offers with an easy smile. nudging you lightly.
You scoff. "I think I've seen enough of you, thank you very much."
A heavy silence settles over the two of you as you realize what you just said. Paul lets his arms drop from where they held you, an apology ready at your lips but Paul gets to it first. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, blonde strands tugged between his fingers.
"You haven't deleted it, have you?"
No, you haven't.
"I was going to, but I got distracted with other things." Not entirely a lie. You really meant to do so, but thoughts you'd rather not share took hold and there were matters you needed to attend to. Matters that could only be solved with your fingers and a vibrator.
You should feel guilty, getting off to a picture of a coworker that wasn't even meant to be sent to you in the first place. Maybe you're terrible, maybe you should be fired, sued by the Aron family.
Memories of you gasping out Paul's name in the quiet of your room come flooding back and you pray that Paul doesn't notice the irregularity in your breathing.
"I'll delete it now, in front of you, so you can see that I did," you offer, fishing your phone out of your pocket.
Paul shakes his head, catching you by the wrist, his hand large and warm against your own skin.
"I mean if I was going to send it to anyone, it would have been you," Paul says lowly, as if afraid someone would hear him, despite the entire expanse of the hallway void of any people other than yourselves.
"Consensually, of course," Paul adds in a hurry, eyes widening. "If you wanted to receive them. It. Receive it."
Your eyebrows shoot up, your mouth curling into a smirk. "You have more you want to send?"
Paul's lower lip slips between his teeth and it seems the two of you are finally on the same page. You try to suppress the smile threatening to break out, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes.
"Until when are you staying here?" You ask casually. You didn't mean 'here' as HQ. Here as in, in town, close to you.
"Next week," Paul replies, stepping closer. "I won't see you until Qatar after that."
"Shame," you mutter, tilting your head as you meet his gaze once more.
"Maybe," Paul begins, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together. "I can add one more thing to my break to-do list."
"Now?" You ask incredulously. Paul nods immediately.
"You know that one storage closet inside the sim room?" He asks, winking at you.
"What? Paul!" You whisper-shout, but he's already leading you down the hallway. The two of you make a sharp turn to the right where big blocky letters spell out 'SIMULATOR' on the large double doors of the sim room.
You squint, immediately plunged into darkness as the only source of light inside is the curved screen, dimmed as well as it sits on standby.
"What if your engineer walks in? Your teammate? Doesn't he have a session soon?" You continue to protest, even when Paul gently pushes you toward the storage room door at the very corner. He flings the door open and you see that it's filled mostly with spare sim components and monitors.
"Babe, that's why they call it a quickie," Paul reasons, flipping the light switch on inside. The lightbulb offers little respite in the darkness and shadows still play along the lines of Paul's face. He shuts the door behind him.
"It doesn't lock? Paul, I swear–"
You gasp but barely any sound comes out as Paul presses his lips to yours, hands settling on your hips. He maneuvers you toward a shelf, pushing you against it and pressing himself fully on you.
You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.
"Did you like it?" Paul asks as he breaks away for a second. He kisses your jaw, tracing its outline as you sigh, your head falling back. He takes his opportunity to kiss along the column of your neck, his tongue smoothing over your skin.
"Did you get off to it?" Paul asks again and your breath catches in your throat. It's as if he knew all the dirty, deplorable things you did over that one picture.
"I know you did," Paul concludes with a breathy laugh, reclaiming your lips and driving a knee between your legs. You groan in response, grinding against his thigh while your fingers tug at his belt.
Paul pulls away and takes over for you, undoing his jeans and slipping them down to his knees. You silently thank whatever god is listening for the fact that you so conveniently decided to wear those easy cotton office pants, slipping them off in one quick swoop along with your underwear.
"I'm tempted to get on my knees right now so I can eat you out," Paul teases, hiking your shirt up and exposing your chest.
A snide remark forms in your brain but it's cut off when you feel the cold press of fingers on your clit. You clamp a hand down on your mouth as Paul gently flicks at it, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.
"Maybe later after work," Paul says, rubbing harder. Your elbow spasms at the sensation, hitting the shelf behind you.
"Ow, fuck," you curse, meeting Paul's eyes. You two burst into muffled laughter just as Paul slips a finger in.
"What happened to a quickie?" You demand, hips moving along with Paul's hand. He adds a second finger and you whine, fingers digging into Paul's shoulders.
"I have manners," Paul informs with an easy smile, face impossibly close to yours. You can see the shift in his bright blue eyes. "I need you wet and ready for me, no?"
You bite down on your lip, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Paul curls his fingers inside you. A shiver runs through you and you feel yourself clenching down and around his digits.
Paul retracts his hand, much to your dismay, but you don't get to complain before Paul kisses you again, rough and heated. His tongue dances against yours and you grip at his Hitech team kit for purchase.
"Bend over," Paul commands and you're more than happy to oblige, turning around to do just that.
You brace yourself against the shelf behind you, gripping at the wood as you lower the front of your body. Paul grabs your hips and your back arches almost automatically. You can feel him pressing up against you and you sneak a peek behind you to see Paul with his phone in hand.
"So I can 'accidentally' send you another one," Paul jests before slowly sinking in. You whine, head dropping down between your shoulders. The thought of him documenting your little tryst sends a shiver up your spine which only intensifies as Paul grabs one side of your hips. He sets up a hard, steady pace that has the shelf in front of you creaking.
"Paul," you gasp out, your whole body shuddering at the force of how hard he's fucking you.
Both of his hands grip at your sides now so you can assume his phone has been put away. You try to stay upright which proves challenging considering Paul is ramming into you ferociously.
Contradictory to it all, you feel the soft touch of fingers through your scalp, smoothing over your hair. In a moment's turn, your head is yanked back as Paul tugs at your hair, arching your back even more.
A garbled sound escapes you, part moan, part sob as the sting in your scalp shoots straight down to your core, pushing you ever so closer to your release.
"The social media person," Paul begins through gritted teeth. "Always so pretty behind the camera. Making me do trend after trend. I'd do anything for you, baby."
You mewl in response, reaching back to grip at Paul's wrist, pushing back against him, urging him to go faster. Paul gets the memo.
"Funny how that photo was taken only because I was about to jack off to the thought of you," Paul continues. "You sent me a message and I was missing that pretty face of yours so I went through your Instagram. Looks like you had fun in Mallorca, tiny swimsuit and all."
"Sorry, baby," Paul says close to your ear. "Couldn't help it."
"Inside," you plead. "P-Please, I'm close. N-Need you to cum inside me."
Paul merely grunts, letting go of your hair so he can pull you flush against him. His thrusts grow erratic, barely pulling out of you each time. He pulls you back to him, your back against his front as he bites down on your shoulder.
"Yes, yes, right there." Your voice comes out raspy, walls squeezing around Paul's throbbing cock. He reaches over and resumes his movements from a while ago on your clit and you yelp, hips spasming pathetically.
You cum with Paul deep inside you, his groans filling your ear as he follows soon after. He stills and pulls you even closer to him, arms encircling your torso. He kisses the spot where he had bitten you, pressing his lips almost reverently to the indented skin.
You're both breathing hard and you're perfectly content to stand around while the two of you gather your bearings. But Paul momentarily disentangles himself from you and reaches down. You see him pull his phone out from his jeans from where they've presumably fallen down to his ankles.
"Smile," Paul prompts, his lips planting a soft kiss behind your ear as he angles the camera toward the two of you.
He snaps a blurry photo, just in time to capture your hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he grins into your skin. Emboldened by the somewhat artsy, flirtatious nature of the photo, you turn around and land a proper kiss on Paul's lips, savoring each second his tongue passes over your mouth.
"Send all the photos you want," you whisper, smiling up at him.
"Or we could just take them together," Paul offers, kissing the tip of your nose.
They say that, for the right person, you’re capable of pushing yourself to the edge of the world and doing things you wouldn’t even consider otherwise.
And that day, Paul couldn’t help but feel like the living embodiment of that timeless cliché, gripping the leather of his steering wheel as he drove down a countryside road in early May—when the sun had started to show itself, but sweaters were still necessary.
He’d left the city behind: the skyscrapers, the modern buildings, trading them for roads that led to open fields full of wildflowers, cared for by farmers who had known each other for generations, with the occasional horse wandering freely through the tall grass, its mane swaying in the wind.
He reminded himself to bring her there, once she had time. He knew she’d love spending the day with the animals.
A random playlist hummed softly through the car speakers while he drove on autopilot, shifting gears with the paddles, missing his favorite passenger—the one who never stayed quiet for more than five minutes and somehow made simple afternoons the most important thing in his world.
There was a disarming calm around the farmhouse he’d driven to—calling in a favor from an old friend of his sister’s, an opportunity Paul had jumped on because it felt perfect.
He walked back to the car with something warm and squirmy in his arms: a little sausage-shaped pup with fluffy blond fur and a tiny pink nose that almost convinced Paul to adopt every single puppy the man had shown him in the barn, right alongside the mares.
“You have no idea how important you’re about to become,” the Estonian murmured, stroking the puppy’s little head as it wriggled in his hands and let out the sweetest sneeze, making Paul chuckle while searching for his car keys in his hoodie pocket.
“She’s going to lose it. I mean actually lose it.” He smiled, placing the puppy on the blanket the old farmer had given him, securing it in the passenger seat so it wouldn’t roll out of its makeshift bundle if he had to brake.
A horse neighed in the distance as he got behind the wheel, and for a second, Paul allowed himself to imagine a future—a farmhouse like this, a beautiful car in the garage, and her, coming home late just to smell the cake he baked before catching a flight around the world.
The car had barely five hundred kilometers on it, still carrying that unmistakable new car smell.
“Don’t you dare throw up in here,” he mock-scolded, one hand on the top of the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, glancing sideways at the puppy every so often. “I just got this car.”
The little golden retriever rested its head on the center console with a soft whine, brown eyes locking with Paul’s.
“…Okay, fine. I’d forgive you,” he grinned, turning onto a narrow road that would take him home through orchards and open fields, chatting to the puppy like he’d known him forever, already certain they’d be good friends.
“You have no idea what kind of life you’re walking into,” he told the pup, waiting for her to get home—Anna had taken her to some sort of market downtown. “She’s going to spoil you rotten. And talk to you like you’re a person. And you’re going to go on more walks than you’ll know what to do with.”
Paul had his feet propped up on the coffee table in the apartment his sister shared with her. The puppy had nestled against his chest, breathing in his scent, comforted by his steady rhythm, while Paul gently stroked his tiny body.
The little thing let out soft, pleased sounds—like it was smiling.
“She’s been talking about getting a dog for months. ‘Just waiting for the right time,’ she says. Meanwhile, she’s got an entire Pinterest board full of dog names and knows exactly which harnesses look best on golden coats.”
He spoke about her like that—his voice soaked in love and affection, using a tone usually reserved for babies, whispering to the puppy that was quickly becoming part of his life just as much as hers.
“God, she’s going to love you,” he said again, watching the pup chew on one of the bracelet strings she’d once tied around his wrist.
It wasn’t just a dog.
It was something she’d wanted—something he knew would make her feel good, really good. The kind of warmth you only feel when you do something for the person who matters more than anything.
And then, the girls came back—finding him standing at the door just as they were putting their shopping bags down.
She was wearing a blue hoodie she’d stolen from him the previous spring and forgotten to give back, her hair tied at the nape of her neck, a few loose strands falling into her eyes, surprised to see him there unannounced.
He’d used the spare keys Anna always forgot in Tallinn and decided to bake cookies while figuring out how to earn the puppy’s trust, who, as soon as they got home, had shown his mischievous side.
“Hey,” he greeted, trying—and failing—to hide the wide smile on his face.
“Paul?” she blinked in disbelief. She hadn’t seen him in months—his schedule kept him busy, and school hadn’t exactly been kind to her either. She hadn’t been able to find the time to hop on a train or plane to visit him wherever he was.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, noticing his slippers and how settled he looked. “I thought you weren’t coming until next week.”
She was trying not to smile too hard.
“I was in the area,” he shrugged. “Had something to drop off.”
Anna shook her head and disappeared into her room with one of the shopping bags, leaving the two of them alone, hoping her brother had finally made the move she’d been waiting for.
“Every time you say that, it’s something ridiculous.”
“Define ridiculous,” Paul teased, raising an eyebrow.
“So? What are you hiding?”
She crossed her arms over the hoodie, bracelets clinking softly on her wrist—half of them matching the ones on his.
She was trying so hard not to launch herself at him and hold on like he might vanish again for months.
“Nothing.”
“You are literally hiding something. You have ‘guilty puppy smuggler’ energy.”
Paul bit his cheek at her word choice. Meanwhile, Anna leaned against the wall, stealing one of his cookies, watching everything unfold without being noticed.
And then… something stirred inside his hoodie.
A tiny head peeked out from the neckline. Two sleepy eyes and fuzzy ears twitching gently.
She gasped.
“No. No, no, no, Paul.”
He felt his heart swell at the look on her face—arms falling to her sides, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to keep from tearing up.
“Wanna say hi?” Paul pulled the puppy out of the hoodie, holding him up.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is that…?”
He nodded.
“Is that the puppy? The puppy?”
“Yup.”
“In your hoodie.”
“Yup.”
He placed the little thing into her hands and pulled her into a side hug, his fingers running through her hair while her heart hammered in her chest and her hands cradled the fluffball against her.
“You’re serious?” she whispered. “He’s for me?”
She looked up, locking eyes with Paul—those blue eyes she loved so much. The ones that always made her feel like nothing could hurt her and all she needed was a car ride with him and the road ahead.
“I didn’t think you were actually listening,” she laughed quietly, blinking fast to keep the tears in.
“I always listen,” he said softly. “Especially when it’s you.”
And in her eyes, Paul saw something clear, raw, and full of love—so obvious it made his chest ache.
Anna, melting at the doorway, watched the whole scene unfold, overwhelmed by her brother’s gesture and the unspoken bond between the two.
“I might start crying,” she whispered, just as the puppy settled into the little bed Paul had bought, surrounded by new toys and bowls he’d picked out just for her.
“That’s okay,” he murmured, pulling her into a full hug, her arms wrapping tight around his torso, his hand cradling the back of her head, keeping her close.
They didn’t move.
Not when Anna stole another cookie.
Not when the puppy barked softly.
Because in that moment, the way they fit together felt like the most natural thing in the world.
That night, Anna was out of the apartment—off celebrating a friend’s birthday—so the three of them (two humans and one tiny golden ball of mischief) had the entire place to themselves.
They’d ordered a pizza from the restaurant downstairs, and Paul had gone to pick it up in his slippers, wearing the kind of smile that only comes when you feel so at ease, nothing in the world can touch you.
Then, after laying a blanket down on the parquet floor, they sat cross-legged and started trying out names the puppy might actually respond to—just in case it already had a favorite and they didn’t want to disrupt it.
“Waffles,” she offered. “Because her ears are soft and sweet.”
“Aron Junior,” Paul countered. “For legacy.”
She laughed and threw a fry at him, watching the little pup weave between Paul’s legs, hinting she was getting sleepy.
After finishing the pizza and watching the tiny belly rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic motion, they headed to the bedroom, flopping down onto the same bed.
The girls lived in a very quiet neighborhood, so the night felt still, peaceful—and sleep, when they were together, always felt even more restorative.
Paul had collapsed on the mattress, lying face down in a starfish sprawl, sunk deep into a sleep that had him dreaming about the kind of life he’d thought about all day. She, who tended to move around a lot in her sleep, had ended up draped across him, her stomach pressed to his back and her lips brushing against his jaw.
It was around 3 a.m. when she woke up, not quite realizing they were tangled together like that, startled instead by a loud sound breaking through the quiet.
“Paul,” she mumbled, half-asleep. “You’re snoring. Like, offensively.”
Paul tried to turn over, but something was stopping him—and once he realized what that something was, he figured it might be the best thing that had ever pinned him down.
“What?” he muttered, rubbing his face, pretty sure he had never snored in his life.
“That noise. It’s coming from you.”
“I don’t snore.”
“You do. It sounds like a bear trying to breathe through a straw.”
Paul shifted slightly so he could look her in the eyes, catching the soft scent of sleep and comfort her skin gave off—so warm.
But the sound persisted, echoing in the darkness of the room, cut only by the small nightlight they’d left on outside the door to keep an eye on the pup.
“…Okay,” she whispered. “That wasn’t you.”
He put his hands on her hips and gently moved her aside so he could get up and check, rubbing his eyes as she sat up in bed.
And that’s when they saw it.
The dog, lying belly-up inside one of the pilot’s slippers, clearly deep in a dream, tail flicking back and forth, head tilted to the side—emitting the stupidest snore imaginable.
“I was ready to smother you with a pillow,” she laughed as Paul flopped back onto the bed. She lay back down on top of him, wrapping her arms around his well-built torso.
“Guess I’m off the hook,” he murmured, voice raspy from being half-asleep.
“You’re lucky he’s cute.”
Her fingers absentmindedly played with the seam of his T-shirt as she chuckled sleepily and whispered:
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Paul said, pressing a small kiss to her arm where it rested against his.
“You think I’m cute?”
She didn’t move—head resting on one of his broad shoulders, lulled by the sound of his breathing in the quiet of the bedroom.
“I mean… you’re fine, I guess. For someone who steals all my clothes.”
They stayed like that for a while, both knowing, deep down, this was one of those moments where everything shifts—where something changes.
Where maybe, just maybe, it would start to have a name tonight.
Or tomorrow.
“Why’d you really bring him to me?” she asked.
Paul looked at her, adjusting so she rested fully on his chest without being uncomfortable.
The way their legs were tangled together, the way her long hair followed her with every movement, the way his old T-shirt covered her like a blanket—like safety.
He could’ve deflected. Made a joke. Teased her or simply stroked her hair.
But instead, he spoke the way someone does when they’re talking to the person they love.
“Because I wanted you to have something good. Something constant.”
She smiled, her face resting on his chest, wearing his shirt, after he’d come back to her—again.
“You’re good,” she murmured. “You’re constant.”
Paul closed his eyes as the puppy started snoring again, making them both chuckle softly, while that particular kind of silence—the kind that follows a confession—settled in between them.
And there was no need to explain.
Because the simple feeling of spending time with the one person you’d do anything for…
That’s the perfect definition of everything.
I'm just writing paul fluff about lazy and slow mornings, and I know you'll eventually get bored of it but I just need him.
Summary : Paul starts to get a little jealous that you're not drawing him but you didn't want to intrude on his personal space. He becomes your muse
Pairing/s: Paul Aron x Reader
Word Count : 1k
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You’d always been into crafts from painting to crocheting to photography. Any kind of crafts had drawn you in. When you met Paul you were going through your drawing and painting phase again.
You’d wanted to draw Paul of course you did but you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Instead, you subtly included things about Paul in your art. From using only his colours to hiding his number in them as well. You thought he had noticed until one night when you were sitting on the couch sketching your little pup.
Paul was silent for a while almost as if someone had stolen his golden retriever energy and now he was sitting with a little pout on his face watching the TV. You were so engrossed in your sketch of your pup that you didn’t notice.
“Alright” He huffed pausing the TV causing you to look over at him
“You okay baby?” You asked tilting your head a little to look at him. Paul let out a breath turning his body to look at you a little more as he fiddled with his fingers. You’d never seen him look so nervous. Not when he was racing at such high speeds or when he was doing something else that could be classified as dangerously stupid
“What’s wrong?” You questioned with a frown moving one of your hands to hold his own
“You know that I love your art don’t you?” He started to which you nodded
“Of course I do. You get so excited with every piece I finish or start to be honest” You replied to which he nodded looking down at your hands
“I erm. I guess you could say I’m a little jealous of our pup” You frowned moving closer to him
“You want a little more affection? You know I’m always up for a cuddle or sex or literally anything to do with touch” You hummed wrapping your arms around his torso. Paul nodded with a smile
“I know you’re always up for affection however that’s not exactly what I meant. You’re always drawing our pup or flowers or actually anything really cute and you make it look even cuter because you’re drawing it” He explained and you smiled
“Baby? Would you like me to draw you?” You asked and he nodded shyly lifting his head to look at you
“I never asked because I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. I wanted to give you that little bit of space away from those kinds of things” You explained and he squeezed your hand
“I’d always love to be your muse even if it includes more photography or drawing but because it’s from you I think I can handle it” He smiled
“You know all my drawings and paintings have a little bit of you hidden in them” You smiled and he frowned sitting up slightly as you grabbed your notebook
“Yeah?” He asked and you nodded flipping through the sketchbook. Pointing out each of his team colours throughout his career, his number hidden within drawings or drawings based around his number
“I can’t believe I never noticed these” He frowned and you smiled
“I thought you had noticed them. It was my way of having you as my muse without wanting you to feel uncomfortable” You clarified and he smiled
“Armastus (Love) I love them even more now!” He exclaimed taking your sketchbook and placing it on the table to turn you around so that you were underneath him. His hands were on either side of your head as he leaned down and pressed kisses to your lips. You hummed into the kisses chasing his lips once he pulled away.
“Please never be scared to ask to be my muse again” You hummed and he nodded with a smile
“I think your first picture of me should be me shirtless” He joked with a laugh and you smiled placing your hands on his shoulders and pushing him up as you sat up. Paul leaned down pressing his lips to your own again.
“Hey wait a moment I was enjoying this” He whined a little with a pout and you chuckled
“But you’ve inspired me” You pouted and he shrugged getting up and picking you up
“You’ve got plenty of shirtless pictures of me. You’ve got a whole album! You can use one of them!” He exclaimed walking to the bedroom.
When Paul finally fell asleep you snuck out of bed and walked towards the spare bedroom that you’d turned into a little art studio considering no one ever stayed with you both and there was no need for it to be another bedroom.
Plugging your phone into your charger and setting it up on the tripod before opening up a new canvas and ensuring it is prepared for your drawing. You took your favourite picture of Paul – He was standing on the edge of a boat on a day trip looking away from you – and set it up so that you were able to copy it onto your canvas.
You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting on your stool drawing Paul before moving on to painting him.
“Armastus” Paul whispered groggily his voice horse from sleep as he walked over wrapping his arms around your waist his head resting between your jaw and shoulder. A hand moved to rest on his head running your fingers through his hair.
“Come back to bed. Please” He whispered and you nodded setting everything back to where it lived
“Come on then baby. Let’s get you some sleep” You smiled and he nodded standing back up to allow you to get up and walk back to the bedroom with him. You cuddled into him his head resting between your shoulder and jaw. His arms wrapped around your torso as you played with his hair.
From that day on most of your art became Paul. Whether it was pictures of Paul or drawings of his car. Anything to do with Paul you drew and he loved it. Posing more often so you could take pictures and in the end draw them.
pairing . . . soulmate!paul aron x soulmate!mixed!race!reader
summary . . . Meeting your soulmate after talking telepathically for years certainly was something.... especially when he's a race driver and you're an intern working in the same place
request . . . yes!! based on this request!
word count . . . 1.4k+
warnings . . . none! just a note that i'm going to refer to paul by his name, but reader doesn't know what his name is until they met!! conversations in their mind are in italic!
faceclaim . . . N/A
alexavia yaps . . . wow. this was something to write.
taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)
. . . For as long as you could remember, you and Paul had been connected. It wasn’t something you had asked for, but it felt like it was always meant to be. Every day, you heard his voice in your head, clear as day.
The first time it happened, you had been terrified. You were alone, walking home from school, and suddenly, you heard a voice in your mind.
"Hey, are you okay?"
You had frozen in place, looking around, trying to figure out who had spoken to you, but no one was there. It took weeks before you realized that the voice in your head wasn’t a hallucination or some kind of weird glitch in the world.
It was Paul.
He explained to you that he had the same ability, and he was just as confused as you were. The two of you quickly learned that you could only communicate telepathically, no spoken words, no physical contact, just thoughts exchanged in the quiet spaces of your minds.
And so, over time, you both built a connection. You got to know each other in the most intimate, invisible way. You shared everything. The good, the bad, the joys, and the fears, without the hidden stuff that often came with speaking out loud.
You’d both learned to help each other when things felt overwhelming, offering support when life was too hard to navigate alone. But there was always this unspoken rule; you couldn’t tell each other your names.
At first, it didn’t matter. You both laughed about it, making jokes and creating silly aliases. You had ended up calling him Blondie because of the way he described his hair; golden in every way, from the light shine to the warmth it seemed to radiate.
He’d called you Curls, a teasing nickname for your wild, curly hair. It became your thing.
He was Blondie, and you were Curls, and for some reason, it was perfect.
But that didn’t mean you weren’t both curious. You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to meet him, see what he looked like, hold him close when he had a hard day. But there was always that one, simple rule; no names.
And yet, after years of talking like this, you both had grown closer than anyone else in your life. You had supported each other through heart ache, listened to each other’s frustrations, and celebrated each other’s victories. You couldn’t wait to finally meet in person.
"I’m counting down the days, Curls. I just know you’ll be even more beautiful than I imagined." Paul’s voice echoed in your mind one night, his thoughts filled with affection.
"I can’t wait either, Blondie. I swear, I’ve been dreaming about it." You closed your eyes, smiling, already imagining the moment when you could finally hold him, feel his warmth. "It’s all I think about."
The world outside of your telepathic connection seemed so small. Conversations with friends and family felt distant, almost irrelevant. All that mattered was you and Blondie. But you couldn’t help the anxiety that gnawed at you, what if he didn’t like you in person? What if it was awkward?
"Do you think it’ll be weird when we finally meet?" You asked, the uncertainty creeping into your thoughts.
"No." Paul’s response was immediate, confident. "I’ve been talking to you for years, Curls. It’s going to be perfect."
You had talked to him about your job internship, how you were working behind the scenes in the paddock for a Formula 1 team, assisting with everything from logistics to preparation, and experience to complement your course in motorsport management.
You’d mentioned how exciting, yet nerve wracking, it was to finally get the opportunity to be in such a fast paced environment, learning from professionals in the industry. You’d also shared how there was a possibility, just a small one, that you and he could meet face to face for the first time during the race weekend, though you hadn’t expected it to happen so soon or so unexpectedly.
And now, here you were, standing in the bustling paddock of a Formula 1 race, running around trying to do your job done amidst all the excitement. You were barely keeping your focus, distracted by the knowledge that you were just a few meters away from meeting him, your soulmate, the person who had been in your head for years. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt as nervous as you did.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
You were walking with a team member down the crowded pit lane, carrying a stack of equipment for a quick setup. As you navigated the sea of people, your foot caught on the edge of a toolbox, sending you tumbling forward.
You braced for impact, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of arms shot out, catching you in mid fall.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was go-"
Your heart skipped a beat as you collided with his chest, the impact leaving you breathless. You instinctively looked up into his eyes and froze.
There was something… something so strangely familiar about this person. His bright blue eyes locked onto yours, and everything else seemed to fade away. It was as if you had always known this person, and the realization hit you like a wave.
This was him.
"Curls?" His voice was low, hesitant, but somehow it sounded exactly the same as it did in your mind. You felt a jolt of recognition.
"Blondie?" you replied, nearly breathless. You weren’t sure if you’d said it out loud or thought it, but the words came so naturally.
His eyes widened in disbelief. "You-how-how are you here?" He looked around, clearly trying to piece together the situation.
You smiled, heart pounding in your chest. "The internship."
For a moment, neither of you knew what to say. The shock and joy of the moment hung between you like a heavy blanket, but the connection you felt in your chest was undeniable.
You had been waiting for this day for years, and now that it had finally arrived, you were left speechless.
He held you at arm's length, still unsure, his fingers lightly brushing your arms as though confirming you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. "I-I didn’t expect… This wasn’t how I thought it would happen. I thought we’d… I don’t know… meet some other way."
You laughed, a sound that felt more freeing than anything you had ever experienced. "I didn’t expect it either. But here we are."
"Yeah," he said, grinning now. "Here we are."
And just like that, you both stood there, in the midst of the busy paddock, overwhelmed by the realization that everything you had shared in your minds for years was now physical, real, and right in front of you.
"What's your name, then? Mine is Paul."
You told him your name, smiling when he repeated it, as if testing the way it felt on his tongue.
Paul’s gaze softened as he stared at you, the same intensity and adoration you had always felt from him radiating in his eyes. "I’ve waited for this moment for so long. It feels… unreal."
You reached for his hand, your heart fluttering as your fingers brushed his. The sensation was electric, like every piece of you had clicked into place. "Me too," you whispered. "I’ve always known it was you, but now I can see you, and it’s more than I ever imagined."
He smiled, a tender, almost shy expression that made your heart swell. "So, you’re actually here… and I’m not dreaming?"
"I’m here, Blondie, or Paul," you reassured him softly. "And I’m never going anywhere else."
And then, without thinking, you both moved closer. You didn’t need words to tell him how much this moment meant.
You simply leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like the peak of everything you had been waiting for. Soft at first, but as if everything else in the world had faded, you deepened it, feeling a connection so deep it was almost overwhelming.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, Paul rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your hands tight. "I can’t believe it. You’re here. We’re here."
You smiled, the weight of the years of waiting slowly lifting off your shoulders. "We’re here," you agreed, "and I’ll never leave."
He kissed you again, this time more passionately, as if he never wanted to let you go. And in that moment, you knew, more than ever, that no matter the distance, no matter the years, the connection you had was real.
summary: after another disappointing race that ended in retirement, paul just really needs his girlfriend
warnings: none
pairing: fem! reader x paul aron
genre: angst ( not really ), fluff
face claim: no one
author note: just a short one because of what happened with the race today
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
not wanting to face the disappointment and anger of his team, paul slowly walked back to the garage. physically he was fine, but emotionally he wanted to punch or kick something to get his anger out, and mentally? paul just wanted to collapse into the arms of his girlfriend who was in the pit lane.
but, he had to sit on the pit wall and watch the odd battle that was happening. depending on who ended in points, he would be dropped down in the championship, but paul was reminded that there’s still races left.
“can i go back?” a nod was all he needed.
paul quickly crossed over to his girlfriend who hugged him tightly, completely ignoring all the cameras around them. y/n kissed her boyfriend lightly once he leaned out of her hug ( which took a while ). paul sighed as he let go, he wanted to go back to the hotel and just cuddle her until he felt better, but he had to wait.
“this year has been rather odd” paul nodded at her words as she leaned into his side
the couple were silent and aside from the cameras capturing their moment together, no one else bothered them.
after a while, amaury had to come into the pit lane and y/n slowly backed off, not wanting to be seen on screen, but paul quickly reached out and gripped her hand as an indication that he didn’t want her leaving his side. y/n learned that when paul was upset, he would go very quiet and would barley utter a word to anyone. early in their relationship, y/n had been upset about this as she just wanted paul to talk to her so she knew how to comfort him, but y/n quickly learned that she just needed to be patient and paul would eventually start talking about how he felt and what she could do to make him feel better.
“want a lolly?” she whispered and held a ( favourite colour ) wrapped sweet out to him
“why are you whispering?” he asked
“why are you?” she asked back in a normal tone, paul just smiled lightly and took it from her hand. she grabbed a few more and offered them to the team members who thanked her.
one thing that paul loved y/n is that fact she carries some sort of sweet with her, and there’s always a heap in her pockets.
“( favourite flavour )” she nodded before popping one into her mouth
she chewed lightly and covered her mouth before speaking again, “i got some more in my bag back at the hotel, should we unwind with a sugar rush?”
“hell yeah”
paul felt a bit better with her by his side and he hoped that their relationship will continue to be as sweet as the lollies / candies she brings with her.
