#but I don’t think I actually have to worry that much

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 with a fem!reader who instead of not wanting kids can’t have kids?

This is a popular request, anon. I've had several submissions from various users. Since the theme/idea is similar, I thought I would combine them into one.

Heavy angst ahead, folks. I decided not to sugarcoat with this one. It's heartbreaking. It's sad. And yes, there is comfort and love mixed in.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, angst, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of surgical procedure, emotional hurt/comfort, implied abortion/d&c, minor blood

Word Count: 900

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

This time, it sticks.

Somehow.

Miraculously.

After years of struggling, of being told it would never happen, of false results and shattered hopes—it’s happening.

You’d be in denial if it wasn’t for the test results in your hand. It is solid, a print out of what your doctor told you over the phone.

John stands next to you, reading the piece of paper over your shoulder. His shoulders are riddled with tension, lips a thin line. It’s clear that he wants to join in on your joy, but something holds him back.

“Are you happy?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

“I am—I.” John clears his throat. “But last time?”

Last time looked just like this. Last time everything was fine—until it wasn’t. Until the blood and the pain and the hospital visit.

“It might not be like last time.”

John gently grasps the sides of your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You don’t have to. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

“It’s okay, John.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod, and John places his lips to your forehead. “I worry.”

“I know,” you murmur, turning your face into his touch. “But you’re here. And that’s all that matters.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

It all has to go. All of it. There is too much damage.

No uterus. No fallopian tubes. No ovaries.

Gone. All of it. Gone.

Johnny sits next to you on the sofa, his head in his hands. His sigh is heavy as he rubs at his face. When he comes up for air, you know his world is shattered, just likes yours.

“The surgeon said they might be able to save some eggs.” Even you don’t believe the words leaving your mouth. It’s a farce.

“Might?” asks Johnny.

“They won’t know until they’re actually inside.”

Johnny is oddly silent. It’s not like him to be quiet.

“Are you upset?” you ask, tentatively.

“No,” he says sharply. “Not with you. Never with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, because an apology feels right but you’re not sure why you’re doing it at all.

Johnny places his hand on your knee, squeezing gently. “For what?”

Tears pool, threatening to spill over. “For not being enough.”

He leans in, face serious. “The fact that you think that at all means I’ve failed you. That I haven’t loved you enough.”

“Johnny.”

He draws you in. “This doesn’t make you less worthy of my love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

A heartrate monitor beeps nearby. They’ll release you soon now that you’re awake and aware.

It’s all coming back in pieces.

You remember the cramping, the spotting, and then the bleeding that wouldn’t stop. You remember the cold linoleum floor against your cheek, of losing consciousness, of gaining it again only for the room to spin. You remember how cold you were, and Simon’s hands—of how his voice cracked when he said your name.

You don’t recall the trip to the hospital. You only remember how Simon demanded help while the staff told him he needed to calm down.

But he’s here now—and no one is yelling. He sits in a chair next to your hospital bed, face grim and skin pale like he hasn’t slept in days.

There have almost always been complications—always been issues while trying to conceive, but of those that have ended, it’s never been like this.

You turn your head, and as if sensing you, Simon glances up from his silent musings. You offer your hand. Simon takes it, and though he doesn’t squeeze hard, you feel the desperation in the way he clings to you.

“I’m not risking you. Never again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your friend opens the gift, presenting it to the gathered crowd. Everyone fawns over the set of baby blankets. There are several in total, all pale pastels.

You smile and agree that it’s a wonderful gift. Outwardly, everything is fine. Internally, your mind is still at home, lingering on the four pregnancy tests hidden in the bathroom bin beneath a pile of toilet paper.

Each one negative. Each one a glaring stain on the long list of failures.

Kyle emerges from the kitchen with the father-to-be, a massive grin on his face. This baby shower is a reminder to you of all your shortcomings. For Kyle, this is hope—a vision of the future.

And you haven’t told him. Haven’t said a word about those four negative tests.

How many years of trying now?

But you’re still young.

Don’t stress about it.

It’s so easy for others to stick their nose in, which is why you don’t share anymore.

Kyle plops down next to you. The happiness there is palpable, so thick it’s almost like butter on the tongue. You’re going to shatter it—hurt him yet again.

He presents his hand, palm upward.

You snatch it like a lifeline, and squeeze—hard. Kyle frowns at your entwined fingers. His gaze sweeps upward.

In your friend’s hands is a onesie for a newborn. Everyone coos, and something in you breaks. You’re smiling, but you sense the threatening tears.

Kyle’s frown shifts to a sad smile.

He knows. You don’t have to say anything.

Lifting your joined hands, Kyle brings the back of your palm to his lips. Placing a quick kiss there, he then kisses your forehead. He adds another kiss to spot just behind your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

No one is watching.

“I love you.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[astudyinimagination]

You know what, don't just leave that there. Maybe, instead acting in deliberate bad faith, link the article: https://www.avclub.com/steven-moffat-condemns-ai

Heck, actually, I'm a bit miffed at the AV Club because the half of the subhead is not properly attributed. So I'm just gonna copy-paste the whole thing here because it's short. But before I do that, I'm going to say that, as an actual fangirl of Moffat, I forever have to contend with two things: 1. That he always does a lot of verbal vomit when he gives interviews. To be fair, I'm not sure that I would do that much better in his shoes. 2. That he has a certain sardonic wit that has always translated very poorly in written interviews, wherein writers almost never bother to try to convey his tone. He comes across much better when you can actually hear him speak, and in full context (something that's also rare in written interviews).

Full text of the article below (which includes a link to the origin of the interview, the Radio Times), with commentary from me:

Don’t worry, Whovians—it seems like the Doctor isn’t about to regenerate into a bastardized AI version of himself any time soon. Doctor Who writers Steven Moffat and Russell T Davies recently took on the topic of generative AI in a conversation with Radio Times, and while the former acknowledged that the technology is “fascinating,” he also derided it in the most “Doctor Who writer” verbiage possible. “My son explained it to me. He said, ‘Yes, it can do all these things. It might even get quite good at them. But it takes an immense amount of power to run AI.’ Whereas you can run a human being on sunlight and a vegetable patch,” Moffat said. [See, the first half of the subhead, or article subtitle, is Moffat's son speaking, but the subhead doesn't acknowledge that, which is extremely shoddy journalism on their part.] “Human beings are amazingly cheap, we’re knocking out human beings every day.” Definitely spoken like someone who spends his days writing about anything but. [Definitely spoken like someone with a very sardonic sense of humor, which apparently this writer can't grasp. By the way, the commentary in the article means that it's editorial rather than news, in case you were wondering.]

Still, Moffat does know his human patterns. “Unlike anything else in history, the more we use it, the less good it is,” he continued. “Because the more content that is out there produced by AI, the more it absorbs its own content, and eats its own tail.”

That’s a very astute—and upsetting—prediction, but Moffat and Davies aren’t all doom and gloom. After Davies got a quip in about how “television has run on those principals (absorbing its own content) for a very long time,” Moffat continued: “That’s true, but we occasionally have a new idea. I admit, it doesn’t happen very often, certainly not in my case, but occasionally I have a new idea. But [AI] will never have a new idea. That’s not what it does.”

Davies, for one, doesn’t think the two of them will be replaced any time soon. He’s also far more optimistic about the state of television than some recent reports suggest he maybe should be. The overall number of shows on the air may be steadily decreasing, but the showrunner thinks “the rate of new ideas on television is higher than we ever allow for.” “We always tend to think that things bumble along at a very average level, and the great outliers are here and there,” he continued. “And every month, or every two months—actually, every day, I could find you something brilliant on TV.” [I love his positivity here; it's very Doctorish.]

Hopefully, Doctor Who‘s upcoming Christmas special, titled “Joy To The World,” will be one of those brilliant things. The episode will feature Nicola Coughlan and see the Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) check into a “time hotel” that allows him to visit every Christmas Day in history. You can watch that adventure on our present Christmas Day, even if you can’t travel back in time.

I’m just going to leave this here

[reidrum]

glory of the snow

note: the return of insecure!reader my beloved <3 i had a bunch of requests to bring her back so i hope we like it! this is really just a gentle reminder from spencer that we should be kinder to ourselves. also i wanted to have them actually fuck but it didn't seem right to fit that in here so ,,, part 2 question mark who is to say. anyways my inbox is always open for any thoughts, comments, questions, musings all of it! love y'all mwah

summary: you freak out when spencer walks in on you accidentally, and he just loves you too much to let it go

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, masturbation (r, just mentions), heavy petting/kissing, comfort, talks of intimacy issues, self-deprecating reader

wc: 3k

“Oh, sweet girl.”

Three words, maybe two and one syllable, that in any other instance would have had you melting into a puddle at the softness it reared. Words that have so easily turned you into a preening cat but are now aimed at you, albeit no judgement from his end, with no room for escape.

Spencer had come home after a long day of paperwork when he first heard it. He would have brushed it off if it didn’t happen again moments later, and louder. Concerned, he walks toward the bedroom, a flush rushing to his face as he comes to recognize what it is. A small crack of the door allowed him the glorious sight of you in the center of the bed, hand between your legs, eyes shut in ecstasy. You’re mesmerizing to him and he really can’t bring himself to look away, and he doesn’t notice himself subconsciously leaning on the door causing a faint creak that alarmed you to his presence. In that moment, however, he’s less worried about scaring you, and more about the overwashing look of shame on your face.

The soft creak of the door pulled you out of your daze, screaming when you saw the figure behind the door. Your eyes are bulging out of their sockets nearly, heartbeat still racing with adrenaline from when you haphazardly threw the blanket over yourself. You were conflicted, but getting caught doing something that is a common and completely normal instance in relationships really shouldn’t make you feel this guilty. Although you do know the guilt was created by a previous version of you where you had told Spencer that you wanted to take the pace of your relationship slowly, and had little to no desire to engage in such activities for the time being. Or so you said.

He cautiously steps closer, careful not to startle you further, “I’m not upset, or anything.”

You’re not upset either, you’re mortified. “I lied to you.”

“You did…but I don’t think you meant to, right?”

There had been a time where you were tangled all up in him, and poor Spencer, his hands were in the wrong place at the wrong time to no fault of his own and entirely yours, and your shutdown was unavoidable. The blood in your veins seized up like crystallizing water turning into ice, paralyzing both the physical and mental before you could realize.

Intimacy for you was a complicated concept. While it wasn’t novel or unwanted, physical intimacy was something you struggled to accept with open arms. Call it a consequence of your self perception, but it was hard to accept the soft touch of love when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Spencer never minded, although his heart ached to make you see yourself the way he saw you, he was always more than willing to meet you where you were.

It almost pains you with how understanding Spencer was of the whole situation because you knew any other person would be deeply upset. Every other person was upset.

Spencer never was just any other person, you suppose.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” Another lie, you could easily explain the reason.

It’s not that you weren’t ready, it’s that you didn’t feel like you looked ready. The thought of subjecting Spencer to the one dark cornerstone of your being in the early days of being together seemed illogical and burdensome, and so it was more simple to play it off as wanting to take a slow pace.

But, as biology would see it you have needs and your boyfriend just happens to be so detrimentally attractive that the simplest act has been sending you into a hot fit as of late. The culprit this time was an innocent mirror picture of him at the store trying on new trousers. You had no chance.

You had found that your intimacy issues lie within extending it to others, and less with yourself. The solution of you finding release on your own quickly became a habit when you realized there was no fear on your own. There’s no one to let down if you’re alone.

Spencer perches at the foot of the bed, flat hand outstretched on the blanket towards you but keeping a comfortable distance, “You don’t have to explain anything, honey.”

“No I know, but—fuck—I should.” you bury your face, choosing to only speak to him from behind your hands for now, maybe forever.

He takes a moment to take inventory of your physical being—you don’t look in pain. Clearly you didn’t sound in pain. Your face is flushed, and though he’s sitting a little far from you, the heat radiating from your body hits him like a space heater.

“Sweetheart…I’m not upset.” he repeats, in hopes a reminder might provide reassurance.

It doesn’t. “You’re never upset at me, it’s concerning.” you mumble.

“You make it kind of hard to be upset at you, ever really.” Spencer braves and lays a hand on your leg.

You take a deep breath, the cold of his hand grounding you more and more. Spencer senses the calm it’s bringing you and rubs circles into your calf.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asks gently.

What are you even feeling? You ponder for a moment—anxious, nervous, bad.

“Embarrassed.”

“Honey, there’s nothing embarrassing about masturbating. In fact, it’s more than healthy to do it to keep cortisol levels low,” he explains, “I just don’t know why you didn’t…want to tell me.”

The guilt swirls in your gut, hearing the twinge of hurt buried beneath the comfort he’s laid out for you. He just wants to help you, but you won’t let him in and that hurts him more.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It’s just…I…Look it’s…You’re just so hot—“ you slip out, clamping your hand over your mouth before leaking any more intrusive thoughts.

A faint smirk ghosts his face, “I’m…hot?”

“No—Well, yes. I just…ugh.”

“Okay, okay calm down,” he scoots closer and gently brings the hands covering your eyes to rest in your lap, “You don’t need to be all secretive, you know I’d never judge you.”

“I know,”

“I just thought you wanted to wait.”

“I do.”

“But, not with me? It’s okay if it's not with me.”

“Spence, I do. It’s not that.”

“Am I missing something?”

You gulp, “I just…it’s a personal problem. With me. Not you.”

His brows furrow, “Like what, baby? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Yeah, if a doctor can fix my shoddy self esteem and make me like myself again.” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh. 

The pause he takes seems to be ages long before he speaks again, “Angel, how long have you been feeling like that?”

You’ve been caught red-handed, water filling up the tank faster than you can tread, “It’s nothing, I was just joking.”

“Hey,” he says with a rare firmness, “How. Long?”

You deflate under his hard gaze, “A…while…long enough… for it to feel like a…like a default setting, I guess.” you trail off.

Spencer couldn’t hide the hurt on his face if he tried. Not hurt from your lack of admission, hurt that you had felt like this for so long, dealt with this for so long on your own, and he didn’t even know.

All he ever hoped and wanted was for you to be happy, and if he could be the source of that he would ask for nothing more in life. So to hear about you struggling with this, that you felt like you had to keep it to yourself, was heartbreaking.

Spencer remains in his head a little too long as he’s broken out of it by your small voice, “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

He sighs and moves to sit next to you, making sure he stays above the blanket for your comfort. His back is against the headboard of the bed, and he raises his arm a little, gesturing for you to fill the you shaped crevice. You hesitantly move into the space, hating how you feel every move you’re making is calculated, but all of that goes away the second your head meets his chest and his hand comes up to comb through your hair, the other smoothing your arm down, and all you’re left with is him.

“I promise I’m not mad,” he whispers softly, “Just wish you told me. I would have helped you.” He’s intentional in his wording—would, and not could. Could implies he has a choice, a want to do or not do something. I could have helped you, or I could have not helped you. Would is finite, he is doing it because it is programmed in him that caring for you is a need. I would have helped you because it is the only thing I know to be certifiably true, that you deserve to be cared for.

“It sounds stupid out loud but I was afraid you wouldn’t like me the same if you saw me like…that. It seemed logical for me to remove that option altogether.”

His heart aches painfully, and he wishes he could take everyone who’s made you feel that way to target practice. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I would spend every day of my life proving that to you.” he utters with unequivocal resolve.

You sigh out shakily, “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m always kind to you. You deserve kindness. You deserve a lot of things actually…” he trails off.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Well, did you um—” he trails. You look at him quizzically, he continues, “Like before I came in did you…finish?”

Oh. “Oh. I…I don’t think I did, actually. It’s okay though, no big deal.”

He stares at you intently, “Do you want to?”

Your eyes widen, “Spence oh, no it’s okay really you don’t have to do that.  

“You’re encouraged to say no if you feel even an ounce of doubt, but I’m offering because I love you and I want to show you that you can feel safe with me, even when you feel otherwise.”

The familiar sting returns to your eyes as the tears pool up. You’re not used to anyone putting this much effort and concern for your comfort, it’s a novel feeling but if Spencer is willing to handle you with as much care as he is, you’re ready to welcome that sentiment in with open arms.

“Yeah, yes.” you waver.

He grins and leans down, gingerly pressing his lips to yours. His hand ghosts from your calf to your knee, testing the water before moving more intent. An unwelcome yet familiar onset slowly rises, trying to break through to you, “Wait—“

He retracts his hand immediately, “You okay? We can stop if you need to.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m fine. I just need a second.” you breath out, trying to self regulate. 

He pulls back his hand but you stop him, “No keep it there, it helps. I just…” You don’t know how to phrase it. You think it’s because you’re not in control. When you’re alone it’s only you at the helm calling the shots. But when it really comes down to it, the lack of control is nothing compared to the lack of predictability that comes with the former. Explaining that out loud was daunting to even think about.

Yet Spencer understands what you need, because he always knows what you need. His hand returns to your knee, giving it a soft squeeze, “You tell me to stop whenever you need to.”

He continues kissing you while smoothing his hand up your leg, making wide and sweeping motions across the plush of your thigh so you can feel where he is and where his hand is going. The gesture is comforting and makes you feel grounded, but your head is in a dreamy haze at how good Spencer’s hands feel on you.

The haze leaves through your lips as Spencer feels you sigh against him, feeling you relax more and more as the seconds go by. His hand reaches your upper thigh, fingers ghosting on the inside. “Is this okay?”

You nod, feeling your nerves idling like a distant wave in the ocean. But Spencer’s presence is a lighthouse shining through the fog and guiding you to his shores while the calm washes over you.

His fingers lightly trace the fabric of your panties, ones that you had slid back up your hips upon his entrance into the room. The motion causes you to jump and he pulls back to gauge your reaction. When he sees no fear in your eyes, more so stunned by your wide eyed gaze, his fingers move with more precision, adding more pressure to your clothed core.

A gentle gasp leaves you as he strokes up and down your slit. You’ve given up on continuing to kiss him, the feeling of his hands being too overwhelming to have both sensations at the same time. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your body involuntarily curving towards him as he draws symbols on you with his index. Your breathing gets heavier and faster the longer he goes, and soon small moans begin to escape you.

He drags his finger to the top of your panties and toys with the band, faintly asking, “You still with me, sweet girl?” You preen into the crevice of his neck as he keeps talking, “Want me to keep going?” 

He feels you nodding into him as you breathlessly whisper, “Please.”

His finger dips below the fabric and travels down to your entrance, gathering the slickness and spreading it all over you. “Fuck,” he curses softly, “Look how wet you are, baby.”

You whimper at his words and Spencer ascends to the heavens if there even is one, and if there is it’s the one where you sound like that for him. He circles back up to your clit, paying special attention to the bundle of nerves before sliding back your slit and repeating the whole sequence a few more times.

Your moans are coming out at a steady pace, and he’s been prodding around your entrance for some time now, teasing and edging you closer. “Gonna put a finger in now, okay? Doing so good for me, baby.” he murmurs.

The feeling of his finger entering you is satiating. But it’s not enough, and you need more. “Spence,” you manage to get out, “Can take another one, please.” His eyes shut tight as he revels in your desperation for him, and how cynical he must be to love having you at his mercy this much. He would confess the darkest of sins if you asked him in that tone, and he has no choice but to oblige. He stifles a groan at how easily the second finger slid in, his other hand moving up to play with your hair and cradle your head close to his chest as he works his ministrations.

The familar coil builds in your gut, but at an intensity you’ve never felt before. His fingers move in and out of you urgently, his thumb returning to your clit. He’s a man determined to get you there, and your moans and cries of his name only spur him on further. After a few minutes your moans and cries turn into whines and babbles, and he knows you’re close.

His head leans down to croon in your ear, “Shh, it’s okay. I got you, sweet girl. You can come, ‘m right here.”

It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come harder than you ever have on your own, the waves of your climax overtaking you completely. Spencer continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm, talking you the whole way down. Mutters of praises and kisses flow through your subconscious as the euphoria high takes its peak and you come back down to this realm.

His hand smoothes your hair back as you continue to pant against his chest, words unable to find you.

“You okay?”

You finally catch your breath, “That was—fuck—the most insane orgasm I have ever had.”

Spencer beams at this. For one, his obvious and impressive skills that have stunned you into oblivion. And two, because you look so relaxed. The stark difference of your anxiety filled face from when he first came into the room to the blissed out daze you have right now makes his heart swell five sizes up.

He hugs you closer and whispers, “I’m so proud of you, angel. Thank you for trusting me.”

Sleep is fighting you hard as you laugh airily and tuck yourself under his arm again, “I don’t know why I thought that would be scarier.”

He sighs, his smile faltering but still fond, “Past experiences and self perception complicate the anxiety around sex and intimacy. It’s a natural response based on your lived experiences.”

“Oh.” you mutter, slight deject in your tone.

“But we can work on it, if you want.” he adds, “It’s all up to you with what you’re comfortable with and how you want to do it. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to help you in any way I can, angel.”

You really don’t know how you got so lucky. Someone so kind, and patient, and willing to be with you as you navigate these things you normally would have kept to yourself. You feel grateful to be able to bare a piece of yourself to him, and know that he would receive it with open arms, wrapping it up and handling it with as much care as he can bear.

You cuddle closer, and mumble before your eyes succumb to sleep, “Love you. So much.”

Spencer looks down maybe two seconds later and you’re already out like a light. He chuckles softly to himself and whispers, “I love you more than you’ll ever know, sweet girl. Good night.”

[quarterlifekitty]

(just had a gynecologist appt this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of a dog Soap would be about it)

he’d beg to watch or something like the perv he is

or maybe if we’re being really nasty:

gynecologist!Soap that only chose this profession so he can stuff his fingers into pussies all day :(( he doesn’t discriminate either, he likes all kinds of cunts!! Can’t have any pussy suffering or feeling sick on his watch (he’s a pussy pronoun user)

But he gets real excited when a pretty thing like you walks into his office, likes making you squirm and blush all awkwardly

don’t worry about it, bonnie, s'all part of the exam :3 he’s just checking if your g-spot is healthy!! There she goes, soaking his fingers and trying to suck him in deeper <3

You know there were a lot of boys who said that thing about wanting to be gynecologists in middle school and I will never forget my music teacher saying “you know that women usually go to the gynecologist when there’s something wrong with them, right?” And they shut the fuck up

Also I believe @/peachesofteal has a gyn!Price AU that I recommend you check out if you’re into that.

lol NO ONE walks into the obgyn and expects seeing a built dude with a Mohawk basically busting out of his scrubs and smiling at you with wolf teeth.

Also YES pussy pronouns. A staple of the 141, imo.

And this may be too freak nasty for you but uhhhm…. DentistsOffice!141.

CW: medical, dental, dubcon/noncon, obsession, somno

Obsessed with you and shoving their fingers in your mouth and against your teeth. Let’s be real Soap would love smelling your breath and every day is a constant battle for him to resist spitting in there right after he tells you to open wide.

Price and Nikolai looming over you, remarking on your oral hygiene, stroking the tips of your canines. Calling you a good girl every time you follow any instruction whatsoever— opening your mouth, rinsing with all of the mouthwash, moving your tongue out of the way. The way they praise your good care and tut when you’ve been slacking is insanely motivating

You know Soap is obsessed with the molds they make of your teeth (I know that’s orthodontic primarily don’t @ me). If he uses some silicon in the molds to take a little something home that’s his business iykyk

Gaz who’s the resident anesthetist. And you KNOW they always recommend general anesthesia for every fuckin minor procedure they can so you can be passed out and vulnerable under them. Gaz gently explaining what it’s going to feel like as you go under, telling you to keep counting as the mask gets secured over your mouth.

And if you insist you can’t go under general, you don’t have anyone to come with you or drive you home after, that’s ok. Their technician Simon is actually getting off his shift around when the procedure ends. He’d be happy to drive you home and help you rinse with saline, replace your cotton :) and if something else happens to slip in your mouth while you’re still all dazed and relaxed, what’s the harm?

And miraculously, your insurance (I know I look like an American rn don’t @ me) always covers the whole thing with no issue! They just call them up, and suddenly the copay disappears. So it’s no trouble to go often— you might as well take advantage!

[thoughtfulfiction]

Full of Surprises

Author’s note: My first Joe request from a gorgeous anon! Hope you, my angel @emmyblues and all the other New Years babies had an amazing birthday!!!

Pancakes. Waffles. Is both too much? A little fruit on the side? Should he have bacon on the plate? What about eggs?

“Joe,” he snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a perturbed voice. “What should I make? I’d like to know today, please.”

The man continues walking around the kitchen, running through the plan in his head. It’s honestly causing him more effort than most of his pregame prep. Football was easy, it was x’s and o’s, utilizing his cadence and dissecting some of the best defenses the league has ever seen. Simple things. Planning the perfect birthday wasn’t exactly something he’d practiced his entire life but it was the first one he’d be spending with you living together so he was willing to try his best to make it unforgettable.

“Okay,” he places his hands on the counter, facing his chef. The first order of business for the day was to deliver you breakfast in bed but he loved you too much to make you sit through a meal he cooked. So he called in a professional to start the day off on the right foot. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Final answer.”

“Thank you,” his chef Morgan cracks a tiny smile, patting Joe on the back. “Relax man, she’s gonna love it. If anything, today might be a little over the top but hey—I’d go all out for my girl too.”

That did nothing to ease his worries. He made his way to the living room to touch up some of the decorations and make sure that the layout is how he pictured it in his mind. He thinks for a second, laughing to himself about how you’re still peacefully sleeping upstairs and he’s running around like a headless chicken. By the time he’s putting on the finishing touches, the food is ready and he needs to wake you up so you have time to eat and spend a little time together before he has to leave for practice.

You wake up to the most delicate kisses peppering your face, your neck, your collarbone. Trying to ignore it, you pull the covers over your face but your morning energy, or lack thereof, is no match for him. He easily takes the comforter away, pulling you in close enough to have his mouth back on your skin, kissing your shoulder. Each gentle touch enhances the beautiful wake-up call.

“Good morning sunshine,” he states calmly, “happy birthday.”

You hum tiredly, opening your eyes to ogle at him in all of his glory. His icy blue eyes peering into your soul, the way his arm muscles clench while holding onto the tray full of food that he sets in your lap. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this view, of being in his orbit…as long as you live. And he’s completely dedicated to making this entire day all about you. “Thank you baby,” you cover your mouth and back away when he leans in, “morning breath?”

Joe scoffs, “come here woman,” he grabs you by your legs, wrapping them around his waist and reaching over to present the most perfect platter of pancakes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to wake up extra early and do all this,” you give him a very quick peck, immediately digging in.

He takes a piece of fruit off of your plate and pops it into his mouth, “thank Morgan actually. I didn’t make any of it. But…I do have big plans for you today.”

“Oh you do?”

Joe nods, grabbing your fork so he can feed you. He sat there and helped you finish the plate, giving you a kiss after each bite. Once you were finished, he let you brush your teeth before pulling out a blindfold.

“This is a bit kinky…” you trail off as the light is replaced with complete and utter darkness. Joe gently ties the blindfold after wrapping it around your head and waving his hand in front of your face to make sure you can’t see.

“Maybe I’ll save it for later,” Joe growls into your ear, playfully smacking your butt before grabbing your hand slowly walking the two of you out of the room.

The gentle padding of his feet on the ground, leading you down the stairs is the one thing you can focus on. You knew he was only leading you to the living room but you really don’t mind trusting blindly to hold your hand through life and wherever it may take you.

Light comes back to your world when your boyfriend takes off the blindfold, his mischievous smile making an appearance.

“Joseph…what did you do?”

He puts his hands up, looking at you like he has no clue what you’re talking about. The entire living room is covered in balloons, two giant gold numbers depicting your age sit on the couch, surrounded by a array of lavish gift bags. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Joe rushes out, taking long strides toward the doorway and coming back with his hands behind his back. The birthday hat you made him wear a few weeks ago is suddenly now on your head and he takes a picture of you in the middle of the room and you feel like you’ve just won a spelling bee. “You can take it off now if you want, I promised my mom I’d get you back for making me wear the stupid hat. But you look good in the stupid hat so it’s not as funny.”

“Aw you’re so sweet,” you tell him with a laugh, kissing him on the cheek as he hands you the first gift.

The first three bags are Bvlgari. A complete matching set containing a ring, necklace and a bracelet. All gold. The next bag is Gucci, an ivory bucket hat.

“I have the same one in black. Figured we could match,” Joe shrugs, handing you the next one.

Calf length leather boots, with red bottoms. Then another pair of boots, which could be considered more casual since they’re Chelsea boots…except they’re Prada. And of course, he got you the Prada travel bag you mentioned in passing nearly a month ago. “Thank you. You really did not have to get me all this stuff. All of this is beautiful and so thoughtful.”

You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”

Most of your early relationship you tried to be firm in letting him know you weren’t with him for the stuff he can buy you. Over time as the trust and love continued to build between you two, you realized that it wasn’t the end of the world to be pampered and showered with gifts every now and then, internal cringing less at the thought of the prices at the end of his gift receipts. The man seemed satisfied with how his first two surprises had gone, letting you know that your friend Ryan was on her way to pick you up as soon as he was gone for practice. Every detail had been carefully planned out so you wouldn’t be alone and bored while he was gone.

As soon as he was out the door you took your time getting ready, putting your new items away in their respective places. Ryan texted you that she was on her way after you got out of the shower, not telling you where you were headed so you opted for minimal makeup and a casual but cute outfit and some sneakers in case there was walking involved.

The surprise ended up being an extensive spa treatment. A 75 minute deep tissue massage and a Vitamin C facial. Then there was the mani-pedi, hydrotherapy soak and exfoliating scrub included. You felt the most relaxed you’ve felt in years, all the tension was released literally from the top of your head and neck area to your feet.

Your home was eerily quiet when you and Ryan came back. The lights were off and Joe was nowhere to be found, even though the car he took when he left that morning was back in its usual spot in the garage.

“Babe? Are you home?” You called out, starting to search for him.

Ryan turned on the kitchen lights and suddenly the room was filled with people yelling “surprise!” Your mom and Joe’s mom were there, along with several of your friends, a few Bengals players and their significant others were also in attendance.

On the side table was a massive spread of food, mostly comprised of your favorites and you bravely held back the wave of emotion to greet everyone and thank them for coming. Having a birthday on a holiday has never been easy. Growing up it was a time where people were either out of town to celebrate with their families or it was just simply too much work to even want to plan anything concrete in case plans had to be moved around or cancelled. You sometimes felt like the day was completely overshadowed. Now that you were an adult it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world as long as you had a relaxing and relatively fun day but for Joe to gather some of your favorite people in the world all in one place to be with you on your birthday meant more than you could explain. Speaking of Joe, you hadn’t seen him yet.

You are in the middle of asking Chase Brown’s girlfriend Jazmyn if she has everything she needs from her baby registry when you spot him. In his hands is the most beautiful heart shaped gold birthday cake and he’s beaming as he starts the “happy birthday” song and everyone in the room joins in. Your eyes are closed when he sets the cake in front of you, telling you to make a wish. The first reaction is to ask him what more could you wish for when you have everything you could possibly want right in front of you, yet you indulge him and stand still to think for a little while before blowing out your candles and letting people try the cake.

Between the conversations about playoff scenarios and resolutions for the new year, the room is bustling with activity. Even Joe seems relaxed, a water bottle in hand and never really taking interest in being more than five feet away from you at all times. You catch his eyes a few times throughout the afternoon, a comforting smile here and there going a long way while the people in your home happily mingle and make significant dents in the amount of food available. Nobody really seems to notice that the two of you have snuck off other than your moms, who exchange knowing smiles.

“Alright, you have to stop.” You tell him once you’re finally alone.

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“Stop looking at me with that face. That I’ve seen you naked several times face, don’t give me that face. Not with my mom in the room. Because when you make that face and you’re staring at me with that—freaking stare I want to do something about it. And I can’t. Cause my mom is in the room. And so is yours. So stop it. That should’ve been my birthday wish.”

Joe rolls his eyes, closing the already short distance between you. “Well, when you say a wish out loud, it doesn’t come true.”

He’s looking at you again, less intense this time, more…soft. You’re the only person in the world that gets to see him like this, completely undone and void of his impenetrable exterior. This is the man you’ve continued to fall in love with the more you’ve gotten to know him. And when your lips meet his you can’t help but grin, brushing your finger along the side of his jaw with your thumb. The kiss is as soft as a feather, almost painfully slow as Joe teases you, letting you trace his top lip with your tongue until he opens his mouth and takes charge. Before the kiss goes any further he pulls away, sitting down in one of the oversized swivel chairs in the corner of the room and letting you settle on his thigh.

“When did you have time to do all this?” You ask him earnestly, “I mean with your schedule and the end of the season. How did you—”

He leans into your touch, kissing the tiny space behind your ear that he knows makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “No matter what’s going on in my life, I will always find time to celebrate my favorite person in the entire world. I really wanted you to feel special today.”

“You make me feel special everyday. But for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite person in the world too.”

Joe kissed you on the head, patting your leg so you can stand up first. He tells you to wait here, signaling there’s one more surprise in store. In his hand is a card for you to read…alone. “I’ll be out there making sure Sam hasn’t eaten all of your cake,” he jokes, giving your hand a squeeze on his way out.

Running your fingers across the front of the letter, you admire Joe’s handwriting, trying to think of what could possibly be inside the envelope. Your curiosity gets the best of you rather quickly and you’re tearing it open, holding a small piece of paper in your hand.

Happy birthday baby,

I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to close out the day. Then I thought about birthday sex and doing unspeakable things to each other and got a little distracted. So I took a break to regroup and come up with an actual plan. Today is about you and how amazing you are. How you’ve changed my life for the better. How you’ve been my rock every step of the way during this up and down season. One that I wouldn’t trade for the world because at the end of the day, I get to play football, which love and then I get to come home to you, which I’m starting to love more and more every day. You’re my dream come true and I’m so lucky to get to do life with you.

And if you ever tell anyone I wrote you a love letter on your birthday I’ll deny it. We are taking this to the grave.

I love you,

Joe

You were already in tears halfway through the letter, the waterworks in full effect when two tickets to Disneyland in Tokyo were taped to the bottom of the letter.

How was he ever going to outdo this birthday?

The Bengals should seriously consider signing you for a short term contract the way you wrap Joe up in your arms as soon as you spot him. If he hadn’t seen you coming and knew your reaction, you probably could’ve taken him to the ground. “I take it you liked the present?”

You shrug, “not a bad first offseason trip,” the facade quickly fades and you hug him again, “thank you Joey, for everything today…and everyday. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leans into you, resting his head on yours for a few seconds.

Tilting you head up, you look at him. “Wait…is this why you got us the bucket hats?”

“That’s exactly why I got us the bucket hats. We gotta fit the vibe babe. Blend in.”

You huff out a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

You once scoffed at an 8:30pm bedtime and now it was hard to keep your eyes open at 9:16pm, laying in bed next to Joe. And you swear you just heard him giggle, leaving you wide awake.

“Did you party too hard birthday girl?”

“It’s not funny! I’m getting too old for this,” you mumble into his side.

Sometimes you don’t even remember what life was like before him. And you definitely don’t want to know a life without him. Here he was Mr. Football fiend, in the middle of the season, going above and beyond to make you feel celebrated, special and loved beyond measure. And he’s always so warm, being in his arms is grounding you, slowly lulling you back to sleep.

The two of took a power nap so you could make it to the ball drop. At 11:59, he wished you happy birthday again and you kissed him at midnight wishing him a happy new year.

“Thank you for escaping the womb. I’m really glad you did that.” He pulls on your—well his—hoodie strings so you can’t see, kissing your nose.

“You’re a freaking idiot.”

[milla-frenchy]

I already screamed at you (affectionately 😌) but Odi wtfffffff 🤯🥵🫠

I was already in love with Javi (in case you didn't know already 🤭), you didn't have to do this and make things worse😂🤭 (please do it again 😌😌😌)

Javi is SO confident, so sexy, omg the way he dances, dead LORD

What a HOT fic 🫠🫠🫠

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out. His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long.

Ok. I'm not proud of it, but maybe I would fight too 🤣🤣🤣

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free. You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering as he shifted his weight, the motion only emphasizing how precariously the thong was holding itself together.

Jail, Odi. JAIL

Seriously wtf 🥵🥵🥵

Javier struck a pose, bracing his hands on his hips as he arched his back slightly, flexing for effect. He glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin, clearly relishing in the chaos he was causing. The lights caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every curve and line of muscle, leaving no question as to just how perfect he was from every single angle.

Just so you know: I WAS HYPERVENTILATING READING THIS 🥵⚰️🧟

This man was a problem.

Yes. A big, broad, handsome problem 😂

His smirk widened. “Just great?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—mingling with the musky sheen of sweat on his skin. “Because you’ve been staring like you’re enjoying yourself a little more than tha?t.” You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

jfc he's such a menace

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

omg. The tone 😍😍

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Odi you're such a menace too, I hope you know it 😂

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?” He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

I loved this, so much

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.”   “And?”  You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.”   He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”  

I think "menace" is not even enough to describe him, actually lol

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”   For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter.  You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.  

HELL YEAH great job reader 😍😍😍 I just love when our seducer falls for someone 🫠

Aaaaaah what a HOT fic!! I love your Javi 😍😍😍

Strangers

Stripper!Javier Pena x f!reader // almost 9k

Time stands still and it's only us, what we feel started way before we ever touched... must be from a different life been here before and it just feels right

summary: you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

warnings: mdni, 18+, javi is a stripper, he wears a man thong and gets pretty close to stripping it all off in public, there's cock and balls, unprotected p in v, f!oral receiving, lap dances for days, reader has breasts, a dress, and hair that can fall around her face and is internally conflicted about this man and his leopard thong, javi has a pov in this too

notes: i really don't remember what sparked this but here we are... it's been like a month or more of me working on this. I thought I was done and then I heard a single song and it pushed me to write even more. This was supposed to be just a smutty fic and then got some depth and I was like wtf. Anyway on to the thank yous, thank you to the 5000 people I have screamed to about this, and a massive thank you to @thundermartini for listening to me go on and on about this guy for a long time and then reading it for me love you baby! A special mention to @gothcsz for the thong idea, @evolnoomym, @milla-frenchy and @sawymredfox for being so supportive of this idea to @joelslegalwhre for reading and @syd-djarin for the moodboard

masterlist

The music thumped so loudly it seemed to shake the floor, the kind of bass-heavy track that rumbled through your chest. Your best friend’s bachelorette party was in full swing, and the rented penthouse buzzed with laughter, shrieks, and a significant amount of tequila-fueled chaos. The party planners had spared no expense, from the towering stacks of champagne glasses to the flashy male entertainment just about to take the stage.

And then, he walked in.

You couldn’t ignore the way the room seemed to shift when he entered. The man—Javier, as the MC introduced him—had an undeniable presence. Dressed in a tight police officer uniform complete with aviators, a fake badge, hat, and handcuffs, he adjusted his badge with a grin that screamed trouble. His dark eyes surveyed the room with the kind of confidence that could only come from knowing he was the main event. 

Every woman in the room, including you, took notice.

While your friends ogled and whispered not-so-subtle comments, you tried—and failed—to keep your eyes elsewhere. He was gorgeous, sure, but this wasn’t your scene. Loud parties weren’t really your thing. 

The first performance was for the bride-to-be, of course. When the lights dimmed and the music shifted to something playfully seductive, the room erupted into cheers and Javier made his way to the bachelorette. 

“Ladies,” he announced, his voice smooth and teasing as he pulled a pair of fake handcuffs from his belt. “I hear there's a bride-to-be here who’s guilty of breaking hearts. I’m afraid I’ll have to take her in.”

Your best friend shrieked with laughter as he arrested her, securing one cuff around her wrist and helping her onto a nearby chair. The room buzzed with excitement as he began to dance, every move deliberate and designed to tease. 

You watched the scene unfold, biting your lip to stifle your laughter. He was undeniably good at what he did. But you couldn’t focus on the theatrics as much as everyone else seemed to. Your attention had zeroed in on him—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the effortless way he commanded every inch of the massive penthouse, the man was sex on legs. As he began to set up for the big finale, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out.

His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long. He’s just playing to the crowd, he has to look at all the women right?

The bassline shifted to a slower, dirtier rhythm, and he rolled his shoulders back, his body falling into perfect sync with the beat.

Then came the shirt.

He gripped the edges, peeling it off slowly, revealing inch by inch of sun-kissed skin stretched over a perfectly sculpted chest and arms. When he finally tossed the shirt aside, the room erupted in cheers and whistles.

And yet, all you could do was stare and clench your thighs together. Why was this affecting you so much? It’s just a party. It’s just a guy. Get a grip. But no amount of inner scolding could make you look away. Something about this man pulled you in.

His chest glistened under the soft glow of the light, each bead of sweat tracing a slow, tantalizing path over the chiseled contours of his body. Your breath hitched, captivated by the sheer allure of him—the way every ridge of muscle stood out, accentuated as his hand drifted slowly down his torso. He moved with deliberate ease, fully aware of the spell he was weaving, and the teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips made it clear that he was savoring every second of all the attention he was receiving.

But it was when his fingers moved to rip off his belt that the real show began.

The collective energy in the room surged as Javier teasingly ran his hands down his sides, and in one swift, practiced motion, he reached for his waistband and yanked.

The rip-away pants came apart with a sharp, satisfying sound, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The noise, a mix of gasps, shrieks, and raucous laughter, echoed through the penthouse. But none of that registered as you stared at what had been revealed.

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination. Every inch of his sculpted body was on display—toned legs, powerful thighs, and that tiny scrap of fabric barely holding itself together. The cut of the thong framed his hips perfectly, the deep lines of his V cutting down, drawing your eyes exactly where he wanted them to go. The thin fabric of the thong clung tightly to him, leaving the unmistakable outline of his cock on display, straining the limits of the material. Javier seemed completely unbothered by how much was on show.

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free. You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering as he shifted his weight, the motion only emphasizing how precariously the thong was holding itself together.

The room exploded excitedly, women fanning themselves, throwing bills, and shouting over one another. But you could barely breathe.

And then, just when you thought the spectacle couldn’t get any more outrageous, Javier turned around with a deliberate, teasing spin, giving the room an uninterrupted view of his backside.

The thong was practically nonexistent, the thin fabric disappearing completely between the firm, sculpted curves of his ass. His glistening, muscular cheeks were on full display, round and perfectly defined, drawing another deafening eruption of cheers and whistles from the crowd.

Javier struck a pose, bracing his hands on his hips as he arched his back slightly, flexing for effect. He glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin, clearly relishing in the chaos he was causing. The lights caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every curve and line of muscle, leaving no question as to just how perfect he was from every single angle.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your breath hitched and your pulse pounded so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out the music. Heat flushed through your body as your gaze lingered shamelessly on his backside, every inch of him a deliberate invitation.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Javier turned back toward the crowd, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he surveyed everyone's reactions.

He strutted forward, running his hands up his torso and tossing a playful wink to the bride-to-be, who was practically falling out of her chair from laughter and shock. But his gaze kept flicking to you.

Your cheeks burned as he moved closer, spinning on his heel to give the audience another view. His movements were fluid and sensual, every roll of his hips and flex of his body perfectly in time with the music. When he leaned down to grab the bride’s hands to feel up his torso, his back arched in a way that emphasized the curve of his ass, and you bit your lip without thinking.

This man was a problem.

When he finally ended the dance with a flourish—dropping to his knees in front of the bride-to-be before flawlessly almost jumping back up to a standing position—the applause was deafening.

Javier laughed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He took a playful bow, blowing a kiss to the bride-to-be before gathering his discarded pants and shirt. His bare torso glistened under the soft glow of the party lights, and the lingering smirk on his lips suggested he knew he had the entire room wrapped around his finger.

The girls were still cheering and clapping, their voices a mix of exhilaration and tipsy enthusiasm. But while the others were caught up in the wild energy of the moment, you felt a strange tightness in your chest, like the room had closed in around you.

You weren’t used to reacting this way to someone, and it unnerved you. The heat creeping up your neck was impossible to ignore, and no amount of pretending to be distracted by your drink could hide the fact that your eyes kept darting back to him.

And he noticed—like a magnet—his eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped.

For a split second, everything else faded; the noise, the laughter, even your own internal protests to look away. It was just him, standing there, looking at you with that maddening confidence.

Then he moved.

Javier began to dance again, hips rolling in slow, hypnotic circles to the bass-heavy beat. The fabric of the thong strained with every motion, but he didn’t shy away. If anything, he seemed to lean into it—one hand trailing down his torso to brush along the waistband, teasing as if he might remove it completely.

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

Your breath caught as you tried to focus on literally anything else—your drink, the flickering candles on the table, the way your best friend was still howling with laughter. But there was no escaping the fact that Javier was now standing right in front of you, every inch of him radiating heat and presence.

“Having fun?” he asked.

You blinked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. “Uh… yeah. It’s been… something.” Your voice wavered, betraying how flustered you felt. Something? Really? That was the best you could come up with? You scrambled for words, your brain short-circuiting. “I mean—great. It’s been great.”

Smooth.

His smirk widened. “Just great?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—mingling with the musky sheen of sweat on his skin. “Because you’ve been staring like you’re enjoying yourself a little more than tha?t.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” he teased, his grin softening into something warmer, more inviting. “I’m just messing with you. Now come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Let me make your night.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, though your cheeks burned with the effort of maintaining composure. You crossed your arms to emphasize your refusal, but Javier didn’t look the least bit discouraged.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

Despite your best efforts, the laughter bubbling up from your chest betrayed you. He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. But when you refused—again—he didn’t press. Instead, he winked, gave an exaggerated shrug, and moved on to another guest, leaving you strangely disappointed.

————

Later, after the performances ended and the room was quieter, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the back corner of the room scrolling idly on your phone, trying to drown out your lingering thoughts about him. A few drinks had loosened your resolve. You noticed a stack of glossy business cards on the table where he had tossed his hat earlier. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked one up.

The card was sleek, black with gold lettering. At the top, in bold, elegant lettering, it read:

Elite Heat’s Javier Peña

To the left, there was a neatly organized list; a phone number, a Facebook link, which you immediately ignored, and a website address. But it was the bottom that made your breath hitch.

On top of a gold banner, the words Elite Heat: “The Best Sex Therapy” were printed in bold, confident lettering. 

To the right was a photo of Javier himself.

It wasn’t a professional headshot - far from it. It was one of those casual yet devastatingly attractive pictures that looked effortless but likely required perfect lighting and timing. He wore a grey long-sleeve shirt that framed his broad chest perfectly, the top buttons undone just enough to tease without giving away too much. His hand, however, made it impossible not to stare—casually slipping beneath the fabric, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his defined abs. The way the light hit his skin added a subtle sheen, making the whole image feel like a deliberate invitation.

For a moment, you just stared at the card. The combination of professional polish and brazen confidence made your stomach twist in a way that annoyed you.

“The best sex therapy, huh?” you muttered to yourself, raising an eyebrow at the audacity.

Curiosity got the better of you. You grabbed your phone and typed “Javier Peña” into Instagram. After scrolling through a few accounts that clearly weren’t him, you found the right one.

The profile itself was… an experience.

Picture after picture of Javier dominated the feed—some in his infamous uniform, others in casual attire, and far too many shirtless to be accidental. Every post was a masterclass in confident allure, and his captions were just as bold.

The comments were what really got to you, though. Endless lines of hearts, fire emojis, and thirsty declarations filled each post.

“Find something you like?”

His voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your phone. You looked up to see Javier standing in front of you, his shirt slung casually over his shoulder and he was wearing his uniform pants again. How long had he been there?

“I was just…” You trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse for stalking him online. His smirk told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in closer than necessary. “You can follow me. Might even follow you back.”

“I’m not interested,” you replied, though the conviction in your voice wavered as he placed a hand on the back of your chair, caging you in.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, one dance. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone. But if you like it… well, you can give me your number when it’s over.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling faster than you wanted to admit. After all, what was the harm in one dance?

Javier’s confidence was infuriatingly contagious, and your curiosity was louder than the protests in your head. You nodded if only to prove to yourself that he wouldn’t get under your skin. A small, victorious smile curved his lips as he straightened, offering his hand. “Good choice.”

He didn’t give you much time to second-guess as he guided you to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the penthouse. Some of your friends hooted and hollered, clearly thrilled to see you in the spotlight. You, however, were hyper-aware of every step as Javier led you to a chair he had conveniently placed in the center of the room.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

The music shifted to something slower and sultrier. Javier grabbed his shirt from his shoulder, tossing it onto the floor. The movement was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his toned chest and large arms drew every pair of eyes in the room. Including yours.

He stalked closer, and suddenly it felt like the room had disappeared. Just you, the chair, and the dangerously attractive man who seemed to thrive on the tension hanging in the air.

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Before you could reply, he began to move.

It wasn’t the kind of dance you expected. Yes, it was provocative—every roll of his hips and glide of his body was designed to tease—but there was something more deliberate about it. He kept his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands didn’t touch you—not yet. Instead, they skimmed close enough to make you ache for the contact, only for him to pull away at the last moment.

He straddled the chair, his thighs framing yours as he dipped low, his chest hovering just inches from your face. His scent filled your senses, and your pulse quickened as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he could see the effect he had on you.

Javier straightened, his hands gripping the chair on either side of you as he moved his hips in a way that felt borderline illegal. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, but he still didn’t touch. The lack of contact was maddening, and the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The song ended too quickly, and he stepped back, leaving you feeling both relieved and oddly bereft. Your friends erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed on Javier as he extended a hand, helping you out of the chair.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he’d gotten to you. “It was… okay.”

He laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver through you. “Just okay, huh? I’ll have to work on that.”

Before you could respond, he winked and disappeared back into the crowd.

——

An hour later, the party was winding down. The penthouse was quieter, and most of your friends had migrated to the couches or left altogether. You were nursing your last drink of the night when Javier appeared again, a shot glass in each hand.

“For you,” he said, offering one with an easy smile.

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?”

He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, leaning in closer. “I did put something in it.”

You froze, and he smirked, finishing his sentence with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “It’s called tequila.”

Your laugh surprised even you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, clinking his glass against yours. “Now drink up.”

Against your better judgment, you downed the shot, the burn of the tequila grounding you for a moment.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, how about that number?”

Javier’s smile didn’t waver as he set his empty shot glass on the table. “Still hesitant, huh?” he asked, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “I don’t make it a habit to give my number to strangers, especially ones who…” You gestured vaguely to his naked chest and the police hat perched crookedly on his head. “...do what you do.”

“Fair enough,” he said, the teasing edge in his voice softening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “At least let me follow you on Instagram..”

You stared at the phone, then at him. The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and the way his dark eyes searched yours made it hard to hold onto your skepticism. Against your better judgment—again—you took the phone and followed your account.

“Here,” you said, handing it back after following him.

Javier glanced at the screen, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the night with the same confidence that had drawn every eye in the room earlier.

Javi 

Javier leaned against the balcony railing outside the penthouse lighting a cigarette, the cool night air doing little to temper the heat still coursing through him. The party was still going inside, but his thoughts had drifted elsewhere—to you. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at himself. He’d performed for hundreds of women, charmed his way through countless parties, but tonight felt… different.  

You’d thrown him off balance in a way he wasn’t used to.  

Sure, you’d laughed at his jokes and taken the shot he offered, but there was something in your eyes—an intoxicating mix of curiosity and resistance—that had him hooked. He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you tried to keep your guard up even as he chipped away at it. Maybe it was the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, like you couldn’t quite help yourself.  

Or maybe it was the way he couldn’t stop replaying that moment on the dance floor in his head. The way your breath hitched when he leaned in. The way your lips parted, as though you were holding back words—or something else entirely.  

The music from the party shifted the song echoing in the distance. Javier’s mind wandered as the melody pulled him into his own thoughts. It wasn’t just lust that gnawed at him—though, hell, that was definitely part of it. No, this was something deeper, something that felt unsettlingly like longing.  

He ran a hand through his hair, the grin he’d worn all night slipping away. He’d never been one for complications, especially when it came to women. His job was to entertain, to tease, to flirt—but he’d never felt this kind of pull before. It was like a spark had ignited when he locked eyes with you, and now it wouldn’t go out.  

For the first time in a long while, Javier wasn’t sure if he was in control.  

The lyrics to the song playing in the penthouse hit him square in the chest.  

Must be from a different life, been here before, and it just feels right. No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers.

The words struck a chord, leaving him standing there, staring out at the city lights, wondering how a single dance, a single moment, could unravel him so completely.  

It's like it's driving me closer to you, every step back pulls me right back to you…

Maybe you wouldn’t give him your number. Maybe this would end here, tonight, like all the other nights before. But as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened Instagram, his thumb hovering over your profile, he couldn’t help but think—this didn’t feel like an ending.  

It felt like the beginning of something he wasn’t ready to let go of.  

———

Back in your hotel room, you flopped onto the plush bed with a groan. The events of the evening replayed in your mind, Javier’s smirk and the heat of his gaze lingering longer than you cared to admit.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for your phone. A quick check of Instagram confirmed what you suspected—he’d already followed and sent you a message.

Javier: See? Now we’re not strangers anymore.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. His confidence was irritatingly endearing.

You: I don’t think Instagram follows count as a formal introduction.

His reply was almost instant.

Javier: What would count? Because I’m pretty sure that dance was more personal than most first dates.

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to admit that.

You: Is this your usual routine? Flirt with everyone at the party, then slide into DMs?

Javier: Nope. Just you.

You stared at the screen, your stomach doing an annoying little flip at his words.

You: Why me?

The typing indicator blinked for a moment before his reply came through.

Javier: Because you didn’t throw yourself at me like everyone else. And because you’re cute when you’re pretending not to be interested.

Your cheeks burned as you read the message, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You: I’m not pretending.

Javier: So you are interested?

You: I didn’t say that.

Javier: But you didn’t deny it, either.

You sighed, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You: Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?

Javier: Nope. Not tonight.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, another message popped up.

Javier: You could come over, you know. Save us both the trouble of texting all night.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, and you hesitated, typing and deleting a dozen responses before settling on one.

You: Not happening.

Javier: Why not?

You: Because it’s late, and I’m not that kind of girl.

Javier: What kind of girl is that?

You: The kind that sneaks into a stranger’s room after one tequila shot and a few texts.

Javier: I’m not exactly a stranger anymore.

You stared at his message, your lips twitching at the boldness. Before you could type out another response, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a photo. From Javier.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the image preview before finally opening it. The picture was simple yet devastatingly effective: Javier, shirtless, sprawled on a hotel bed, the faint light casting shadows that only emphasized his toned chest. His dark eyes smoldered into the camera, and his messy hair added to the whole “devil-may-care” aesthetic he wore so well.

Javier: Feeling really lonely over here. Could use some company.

Heat pooled low in your belly and you groaned, tossing your phone onto the bed as if distance could break the spell he seemed to have on you. But of course, curiosity won out, and you grabbed it again, typing out a response before you could second-guess yourself.

You: Flattery and thirst traps won’t work on me.

Javier: Who said it was flattery? Just being honest.

You: Still not happening.

Javier: Okay, how about a compromise?

You: What kind of compromise?

Javier: Drinks. Just the two of us. Down at the hotel bar. Public place, no pressure.

You bit your lip, weighing your options. Saying yes felt like walking into a trap, but a part of you was curious—and maybe, just maybe, a little tempted. The idea of sitting across from him, away from the crowd, felt… different. Safer. Almost.

You: Fine. One drink.

Javier: I’ll take it. Meet you there in ten?

You: Fifteen. I need to change.

Javier: You don’t have to change for me, sweetheart. You already look perfect.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you tossed your phone onto the bed and rifled through your suitcase. Fifteen minutes later, you stepped into the elevator, your heart pounding with anticipation and nerves as you descended to the hotel bar.

The bar was dimly lit, with warm amber hues reflecting off the polished surfaces. The low hum of conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere both intimate and unassuming. You spotted Javier immediately.  

He sat at a corner table, leaning back in his chair. He’d changed into a simple black button-down that clung to his frame in a way that was almost unfair. His gaze locked onto you the moment you entered.  

“Right on time,” he said, standing as you reached the table. He pulled out a chair for you, a small but unexpected gesture that caught you off guard.  

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, settling into the seat.  

“Noted.” His smile widened as he slid into the chair opposite you.  

The server appeared almost instantly, and Javier gestured for you to order first. You requested a simple cocktail, while he opted for whiskey on the rocks. As the server walked away, his attention returned to you and it wasn’t long before they returned with them.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly. “What convinced you to come down here?”  

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.”  

“And?” 

You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.”  

He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”  

The banter came easily, the conversation flowing in a way that surprised you. He was quick-witted, teasing without being overbearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was easy to talk to, it felt like knew him without knowing him. The more you spoke, the more you caught glimpses of the man behind the cocky facade—sharp, observant, and surprisingly thoughtful.  

Still, you made him work for it.  

Whenever his compliments grew too bold, you deflected with a teasing remark. When he leaned in a little too close, you leaned back, though you couldn’t ignore the thrill that ran through you each time he tested your resolve.  

“I like this game you’re playing,” he said after a while, his whiskey glass nearly empty.  

“What game?” you asked innocently.  

“The one where you pretend you’re not interested.” His gaze was unwavering, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.  

“I’m not pretending,” you replied, though the words sounded less convincing than you’d hoped.  

He tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “No? Then why are you still here?”  

You opened your mouth to respond, but the truth caught in your throat. Why were you still here?  

Before you could come up with an excuse, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.  

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”  

For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter.  You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.  

“Okay,” you said quietly.  

His brow lifted. “Okay, what?”  

“Okay… you’re not completely unbearable.”  

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “High praise.”  

“You know, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

His smirk softened into something gentler, his fingers still lightly brushing yours on the table. “Not everything has to be a good idea to be worth it, sweetheart,” he said.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Is that your life philosophy, or just your way of convincing women to give you their number?”

“Both,” he said with a shrug, his grin returning. “And it’s worked out pretty well so far.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you eased slightly. The conversation shifted after that, the teasing banter giving way to something more genuine. He asked about your life, your work, your dreams—and for every question he asked, he shared something about himself, too. 

“I wasn’t always this guy,” he admitted at one point, swirling the remnants of his whiskey in his glass. “I used to be a cop. A real one. Back in Colombia.”

You blinked, surprised. “A cop? Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. DEA, actually.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What made you leave?”

His expression darkened briefly, a shadow crossing his features. “Let’s just say… the job took its toll. And I realized I wanted something different. Something lighter.” He glanced at you then, a hint of humor returning to his voice. “Though I’m not sure stripping is what my father had in mind when I told him I was switching careers.”

The two of you laughed, and the conversation continued to flow. By the time your drinks were empty, you realized you were leaning forward, hanging onto his every word.

Javier glanced at the time on his phone and then back at you. “I hate to say it, but the bar’s closing soon.”

You nodded, a strange mix of disappointment and relief settling over you. “Guess I should head back to my room.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Can I walk you to your door?”

Your pulse quickened at the question, but you nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you rode the elevator in silence, the charged tension between you filling the small space. When you reached your floor, he stepped out with you, his presence at your side was both comforting and exhilarating.

When you finally stopped outside your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Well… this is me.”

“Home sweet hotel,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense.

You fiddled with your key card, unsure of what to say. He didn’t push, didn’t try to move closer. Instead, he simply smiled.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You swallowed hard, his words sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tequila. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with unspoken possibilities, each one more tempting than the last. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant at first—a test to see if this was really what you wanted. But the moment his lips moved against yours, everything else fell away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and steady as he deepened the kiss. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied.

His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.” 

As Javier lingered, you found yourself hesitating. The way he kissed you had ignited something within you—something raw.

You opened your door but didn’t step inside, glancing back at him. "Well, you coming?”

He arched a brow, that teasing smirk returning. “You sure?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Javier followed you inside. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he studied you.

“So,” he drawled, his tone playful but low. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think you know Javier.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers lightly grabbing your wrist. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and his voice dropped an octave. “If we’re doing this, I’m in control, ¿entiendes?”

You nodded, and it must have been obvious how nervous you were.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands brushing your knees as he stepped between them. “This is supposed to be fun.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

Your eyes widened, your pulse skyrocketing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

When you hesitated, his hand trailed up your thigh, his touch light but maddening. “Go on beautiful,” he urged. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks and pooling low in your belly. Javier leaned back slightly, giving you space but never breaking eye contact. His gaze was dark, commanding, and utterly unapologetic. He wanted this. Wanted you vulnerable, open, and completely at his mercy. 

You hesitated, your heart pounding like a drum, but the way his fingers skimmed over your thigh made it impossible to think straight. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, his voice coaxing yet dripping with authority. “I want to see every bit of you, mi amor.”

Your hand trembled as it moved to the hem of your dress. Slowly, you slid it higher, exposing more of your thighs to his burning gaze. He walked back and pulled up a chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, but his eyes never wavered from you. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world—was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The praise sent a shiver through your body. You could feel your arousal building, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.  

Your breath shuddered as your fingers brushed the fabric of your panties, the dampness betraying just how much his presence, his words, his command, had affected you. You glanced at him, unsure, but his gaze was steady, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse race. 

Slowly, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric, the first tentative touch drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. Javier's expression darkened with hunger, his composure unraveling ever so slightly as he leaned forward. 

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you can’t hold back.”

Your fingers began to move in slow circles, your body responding to your touch almost instinctively. The heat between your thighs grew, and your hips shifted slightly, seeking more pressure. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of your movements. 

Javier's eyes never left you. His own restraint was evident in the way his fists clenched, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back from me.”

You whimpered, your movements becoming more confident, more insistent as you lost yourself in the moment. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, seemed to light a fire in him. His control was slipping, and it was intoxicating to know that you were the one unraveling him. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going, just like that.”

Javier’s gaze burned into you, the tension in his jaw betraying how tightly he was holding himself back. But then, he shifted, his hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, exposing the golden skin of his chest. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if daring you to keep watching even as your own hand continued its rhythm. 

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice dark and commanding, the sound vibrating through you. His shirt slid off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor. Then, his hands moved to his belt, the metallic clink making your breath hitch. He undid it in a single, fluid motion, the sound of the zipper following shortly after. 

Your fingers faltered for a moment, your breath catching as your focus shifted entirely to him. He stood before you, stripped of all pretense, his movements deliberate and sure. When he pushed his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your gaze locked onto him, and your thoughts scattered.

He was breathtaking. The sharp angles of his hips, the sculpted planes of his abdomen, the sheer strength of his frame—it was as if he had been carved just for you. Heat coiled low in your belly, a visceral reaction to the undeniable evidence of his desire for you.

Your eyes traveled over him, lingering shamelessly, drinking in every inch of him. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with a heat that left you both vulnerable and electrified.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze despite still being partially clothed. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing he could see—made your pulse race and your chest tighten with need.

The air between you crackled with an unspoken hunger, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide how deeply he affected you.

His hand wrapped around his shaft, a groan slipping from his lips as he began to stroke slowly, matching the rhythm you’d set for yourself. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t hide from me, nena.”

The sight of him, so confident, so completely at ease with his own pleasure, made your own need intensify. Your movements quickened, your body arching slightly as the tension in your core built. His gaze flickered over you, drinking in every shiver, every gasp, every movement of your hand.

“Dios mío,” he murmured, his strokes becoming faster as he watched you. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could watch you forever.” 

Javier’s hand stilled suddenly, and you watched as he got up, his body exuding confidence and unrelenting command. He stepped closer, towering over you where you sat, his dark eyes still heavy with desire. He leaned down, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his voice a seductive rasp as he said, “Come here.”

You hesitated, your heart racing, unsure of what he was asking. But he took your hand, pulling you gently to your feet, and his lips brushed your ear. “I want you to dance for me. Just for me.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you stammered, your cheeks burning. The idea made your pulse race, the vulnerability and intimacy of it all was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His hands moved to your waist, steadying you. “Yes, you can, you’re perfect.”

His words wrapped around you, melting your hesitation. Slowly, you began to sway, your movements tentative at first, but his gaze never wavered, filled with encouragement and raw need. 

Your fingers found the hem of your dress, and you began to lift it, inch by inch, exposing your skin. His eyes tracked every motion, his breaths deep and heavy, fueling your confidence. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You turned away from him, your fingers trembling as you unclasped your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders before finally slipping out of your panties. 

“Fuck, you are so beautfiul.”

You felt the power in his words, the way they stoked your courage and your desire. With each slow sway of your hips, you inched closer to him, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to resist. His heated gaze anchored you, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins.

You ran your hands down your body, over your curves, letting him watch as you closed the distance. His chest heaved as you straddled him and the tip of his cock brushed against your core, you froze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. 

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Just like that. Take your time, baby. Feel every second of it.

“Javi,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t know if I—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His touch was firm, guiding but never forcing. “You’ve got this, baby. Dance for me—on me. Take your time.”

The raw hunger in his voice undid you. He guided your movements as you began to grind against him, slow and sensual. Your body aligned with his as you slid against him, teasing him with every slow grind. His head fell back against the chair, his jaw clenched as he groaned your name. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands tightening their grip, encouraging your movements. “Just like that. Feel me, nena. Let me feel all of you.”

Slowly, deliberately, you adjusted, letting your slick pussy tease the length of him. The anticipation was maddening, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, his restraint barely holding. Then, with a deep breath, you angled yourself just right and began to lower yourself onto his length.

The sensation stole your breath as you took him inch by inch, your body adjusting to his size. His growl of pleasure rumbled through you, his hands guiding you down until you were completely seated. The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming and it felt so good.

“Now move, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “Show me how good you can make us feel.”

You began to roll your hips, your movements slow and deliberate as you rode him, your bodies perfectly in sync. The connection between you felt electric, every thrust and grind drawing you closer together. His hands explored your body, his lips tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone as you moved, his murmured praises driving you to the brink.

Each undulation of your hips sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, and as you rode him, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled in passion and ecstasy.

The sensation made you both gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as you began to move. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.” 

The tension coiled tighter with every roll of your hips, the friction building to a fever pitch as Javier groaned your name like a prayer. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements, his thumbs pressing bruising circles into your skin as if to anchor himself. The entire time his gaze stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, as if he wanted to memorize the way you looked in this moment—completely undone above him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

The words lit you up, your pace quickening as you chased the edge, that blinding release that teased just out of reach. Your breaths mingled with his, sharp and ragged, the room heavy with the sound of skin meeting skin and the delicious symphony of your pleasure.

“Javi,” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back to cradle your face. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Something in his voice broke you, the sincerity laced with desire, the unshakable promise that he wouldn’t let you fall. Your body tensed, your movements stuttering as the first shockwaves of pleasure crashed through you, and you cried out his name as you shattered around him.

Javier didn’t falter. He held you steady, his grip firm as he ground his hips up to meet yours, pulling you through the aftershocks until you were trembling in his arms. The intensity of it left you breathless, and you slumped forward, resting your forehead against his as you tried to gather yourself.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice still thick with need, though his concern for you was evident.

You nodded, chest heaving as you caught your breath. “Yeah,” you whispered. 

“Your turn to relax. I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he stood. A soft squeak escaped you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

“Javi, I can walk,” you protested weakly, though you made no effort to pull away.

“I know you can,” he teased, “but I like having you right where you are.”

The bed was cool against your back when he laid you down, but his body quickly chased away the chill. Javier followed you down, his weight settling between your thighs.

“Now,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his gaze softened. “Where were we?”

Javier’s lips captured yours in a kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every second, and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heat as he paused to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. His hands explored you, tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips before sliding lower. Every touch sent shivers through you, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasps escaping your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched into him, your body aching for more. “Javi, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly. “Patience, sweetheart. You just taste so good.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your body arching involuntarily. “Javier, I need… I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re so beautiful like this. All mine.”

As his lips moved lower, he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, his hands spreading you gently. The anticipation made your body tremble, your legs parting instinctively as you felt him pause, his breath hot against your core.

“Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before he leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he worked you with slow movements. Javier groaned softly, his grip firm on your thighs as he held you open, the sound vibrating through you and heightening the pleasure.

Your hips bucked against him, and you gasped, “Javi, please, I’m so close.”

He lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening as he smirked at you. “I love hearing you beg for me, come on let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His tongue and suddenly his fingers moved together in perfect rhythm, lapping, sucking and moving just right. The tension in your belly coiled tighter until it snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves that left you trembling. Javier didn’t stop until your body softened beneath his touch, his movements slowing as he kissed your thighs and worked his way back up your body.

By the time he reached your lips, you were breathless, your body buzzing with aftershocks. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“How was that beautiful?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

“Incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw.

Javier groaned softly at your touch, his restraint visibly fraying. He kissed you harder, his body pressing into yours as his arousal became impossible to ignore. “You sure you’re ready for more?” 

You answered by rolling your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale as he gritted his teeth. “I need you, Javi. Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. He positioned himself, his gaze locked on yours as he pushed into you in one slow, steady motion. The stretch was intense, and you gasped, clinging to him as your body adjusted.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, so damn tight.”

“Move..please,” you urged softly, your lips brushing his ear.

He obeyed, pulling back before thrusting in again, setting a rhythm that was slow but deep. Every movement drew you closer until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

His hand slid between you, his thumb finding your most sensitive spot, teasing it in time with his thrusts. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your nails raked down his back, the pleasure building impossibly fast. “Javier,” you whimpered, your body tightening around him as the tension reached its breaking point.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Come for me, give me one more.”

His words were your undoing. You shattered around him, your cries filling the room as pleasure consumed you. Javier followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping him as he found his release.

For a while, neither of you moved, the room quiet except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Eventually, Javier rolled to the side, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’re not so innocent yourself, Javier.”

His smirk returned. “Get some rest, baby,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over you both. “You’ll need it for round two.”

[revelboo]

THE TENSION BETWEEN THE SCAVENGERS AND THEIR HUMAN IS KILLING MEEEEEEEEE 🫠 🫠🫠 JUST FRAG THAT SQUISHY LITTLE MORSEL ALREADY SPINISTER YOU KNOW YOU WANNA (and then it turns into a gangbang because you gotta share with your fellow scavs)

He definitely does want to

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 14

Scavengers x Reader

• “Spin, you’re doing it wrong. You have to unwrap the human to get at the valve,” Misfire says, grinning as Spinister just stares blankly at him and you take a moment, then change colors as Krok drops his head into his hands. “Tiny, if you’re wanting spike that bad, I wouldn’t ask him for it.” Teasing you, watching you teeter between horrified to embarrassed is too much fun. His new favorite past time as you squirm like crazy trying to get loose and Spin refuses to release you.

• “Why are you like this?” Krok demands, groaning as Spinister curls forward so your legs are now pinned to your chest and his mind gets distracted by how flexible you are. Primus, help him. What did he do to deserve a crew of deviants? “Spinister, stop.” Because the big medic also seems fascinated with how he’s got you pinned with your ankles against his shoulders and his hips pressed against you, a rumbling growl escaping him.

• “Like what? A delight?” Misfire asks, head tipping to stare at you and the position you’re trapped in, barely able to breathe. Watching the seeker run his glossa over his denta when he catches you glaring at him. And then startling as a big palm is planted by your head and Spinister rocks himself against you. He’s not- he is. Hips rocking against you, grinding as he stares down at you and you use your legs to try and push yourself away only for him to grip your hip. “I just told you the coverings need to come off first, Spin.”

• Crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as Spinister ruts against you, Misfire bites back a laugh as he watches Krok swear and seperate Spin and you. And your face is redder than he’s ever seen it, flushed as you breathe raggedly, scooting back as Spin struggles to get to you. But you’re not actually upset, lips parting slightly as you watch Spinister snarl. Knows Krok is just worried about him hurting you, but he’s almost positive you’re safe with the slightly broken medic. If you don’t mind being fragged, and somehow he doesn’t think you would mind. “Mass displace back,” Krok demands as Misfire drape himself against the medical berth you’re on and lazily reaches a servo out to push you flat, feeling the frantic beat of your heart.

• Snarling, Spinister breaks free of Krok’s servos and seizes your ankle to drag you away from Misfire, rotor blades on his back flaring out slightly as he crouches over you. “Hey, we’re all friends, remember? Krok, let him have his toy,” Misfire says as Krok swears. “Sorry, tiny. Big guy’s getting mad.” Venting as Misfire grabs a protesting Krok and tries to pull him away, that anger runs through Spinister white hot until two little hands land on his battle mask and tug his head down and the anxious fury drains away as he drops his face against your throat, venting deeply. Hears your startled wheeze when he relaxes against you. “Spin, you’re heavy,” you whisper as he presses his face tighter against you, chasing the thrum of your pulse as that confusion ebbs when you run your palms over his helm, his neck, and shoulders to soothe him.

Previous

[sturnslutz]

honey dryhumping chris for the first time...

you didn’t know how it got to this point. chris had come over again to “study” or attempt to. he laughed at the fact you actually thought he came to only study with you after the first time you guys fucked.

chris had somehow managed to get you on top of his lap despite your efforts to keep him on task, but you didn’t necessarily get off him at any time.

he had proposed a new advance in your.. whatever the two of you were. “cmon it’s gonna be fine. it’s just dry humping, no actual sex. plus i don’t know why you’re so scared we literally fucked already.”

“m’ not scared, chris.” you say as you bury your face into his shoulder. he rolls his eyes and smiles while rubbing your back up and down, reassuring you.

“we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey. it’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry about it.”

“no no! i want to, i just don’t think ill be very good at it…” you say, expressing as you sit back up, looking away in embarrassment at the last sentence.

“that’s why we can practice and i’ll teach you. plus, dryhumping ain’t that hard. we jus’ makeout and you kinda jus’ grin’ yourself on me. it feels good for both of us.”

“okay… do we have to take our clothes off?” you say as your shyness rebuilds. he laughs while shaking his head. “you worry too much. and no, we don’t have to. it’s more of a preference type thing. if you wanna take your shirt off you can. i can take mine off because i know how much you like rubbing your hands all over.”

your ears practically perk up at the moment he mentions taking his shirt off. he didn’t have tattoos or anything, but the feeling of rubbing your cold, soft hands over his biceps, stomach, and just upper body made you feel amazing.

“o-okay.” you nod, smiling a bit as you make eye contact with him again. he nods, smirking as he grips your hips tighter to himself so you don’t fall, before swiftly taking off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

your gaze immediately drops as you lean your hands down, causing a hiss to come out of him as he feels your cold hands touch him.

“okay, you ready, baby?” he asks while rubbing your thighs. you hum and lean down, kissing him softly. he immediately reciprocated the kiss, going slowly at first to help get you worked up.

he let his hands roam over your body, going over every inch, curve, material, and everything that he could reach with an arm’s distance. he then grabbed your hips, moving you himself, grinding you slowly against his covered torso.

you gasp against his lips as your jeans rubbed against his, the edge of your zipper hitting a specific spot against you as his hardness pushes it up towards you. “y’like that?” he mutters against your lips, taking a small breath in between, letting you do the same.

you couldn’t get words out so you just nodded, letting him do the same movements with your body over and over, causing your panties to get soaked.

“fuck, chris. ‘m close.” you say, panting against his mouth as he nods, letting out a small, “same.” he grinds himself more into you, as you take over the lead of your own body, matching his own movements perfectly.

“fuck honey. gon’ make me cum in my pants.” the two of you kept the same movements as you pulled your lips away from his, burying your head in his neck, whimpering softly as you tremble against him, your movements coming to a stop.

once he realized you reached your climax, he groaned, cumming in his boxers, allowing a dark spot to appear on his jeans. the two of you are left panting against each other as he kisses your cheek, whispering soft praises into your ear.

the confidence you built up slowly diminishes once again as you bury yourself deeper into his neck, if possible, to help escape the reality of what happened, that chris made you cum in your panties, and you made him cum in his pants.

a/n: ugh. only if hockeyplayer!chris could be this nice in the future.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @angeliijay12-blog @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @ilovedanielcaesar @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm comment to be added or removed.

[alilobsessive]

For the Reader that the Batfam doesn’t know about till she’s twenty and her mom dies of could we get the Batfam reacting to her being absolutely invested and a part of her step family. Like her mom was married to some guy who reader thinks of as her father. She even has older step siblings that just adore her. It’s like so wholesome and the Batfam just wants to vomit from anxiety because what do you mean you don’t feel like a part of our family and feel more related to your step family?!

Even better if the step family is the opposite of the Batfam in every way. Emotionally coherent, great communication, middle class, and oh yeah secretly a villain family that likes to go after big corporations and embezzle their funds. Gotta pay the mortgage on that nice house in the suburbs somehow 😄🤫 but reader and her mom never knew the step dad and his children were villains. They just thought they owned a small family business that required a whole lot of travel.

Honey, baby girl, I love the way you think! This probably isn’t what you had in mind but I did my best.

You always knew that your Father wasn’t your biological father. Although your mother had married him when you were still extremely young, you still had some vague memories of a time before him. But that never changed how you viewed him and your older siblings. Their family, no matter what, you’re Father even went so far as to legally adopt you not long after their marriage.

Finding out your biological father was Bruce fucking Wayne of all people was a shock to everyone, even him. You were born before Bruce had the reputation of a family man, someone who loved helping people. Back then he was known solely as a playboy, not ready or willing to settle down and enjoying his youth as much as he could. Your mother met him at a gala having been invited by her brother in law, a decently wealthy man. Wealthy enough to be invited to these gala’s from time to time. There she met Bruce, they did the deed so to speak, and the rest is history. Of course your mother already knew who exactly your biological father is, she wasn’t the type to go sleeping around frequently. Against her better judgment and the judgment of the rest of her family, she decided to keep you. Lying that she didn’t know who the father was, not expecting him to be a good parent or wanting the stigma of being a wealthy man’s bastard child to follow you around.

Because of this, outside of your Aunt and the aforementioned brother in law, your uncle, the family disowned her. It was hard being a single mother, although her job did pay well it paid well for a single person, not a single person and infant. She relied on your Aunt and Uncle far more than she would like to. It was also through your Aunt and Uncle that she met your Father. An accountant who was temporarily contracted by your Uncle’s Company. He’s older than your mother by a good few years and has three kids of his own that he was taking care of by himself after his wife was killed in a villain attack.

The two had hit it off rather well, and 3 years later they were married. The two of them were the happiest couple you have ever met, even when they were struggling to take care of the four of you, they were happy. So the fact that your Father didn’t even know this was concerning, if she could keep this a secret up until her death what else was she hiding? What information that was quietly eating her alive, did she not even bother to put in her will like this? She wanted you to know, even after his reputation changed things were comfortable and she didn’t want to ruin it with Bruce's presence.

Just like her you thought Bruce and his family should know. It felt wrong to keep this a secret and you weren’t going to bottle it up. Of course you’re Father and siblings had mixed feelings about it, they were understandably worried. This is the richest man in Gotham, who knows what he’s actually like behind closed doors. But it felt wrong to keep this from him, even if you were never going to meet again, he deserved to know. What you definitely didn’t expect was everything that would come after telling them and doing that DNA test, and then another DNA test and then a third just to be safe, Jesus Christ these people are paranoid. Which understandable who knows how many people come up to him with those exact same claims on a daily basis. A lot seeing as when you tried to get in contact with him, you discovered a literal fucking procedure and form to fill out on the Wayne enterprises website for this very scenario. Which also leads to the question how many people signed the forms as a joke.

All and all when the paperwork and blood test finally got through a fucking full month later, you randomly got an email saying you had a meeting scheduled with Bruce at 10am in a week. Once again informing your family made them freak the fuck out. Which makes sense seeing as you’re Father is now an accountant working for the Lex corp branch in Gotham. Competing companies and all that. Your other siblings having gone into similar fields in different companies, your eldest brother having even moved to BlüdHaven and become an Accountant for one of their large corporations. You could never really wrap your own head around numbers. Going to Gotham university for Acting yourself. Completely different from what the rest of your family, including your Mother did for a living. After your meeting with Bruce, which basically boiled down to “why did you inform me” “what do you want” “bla bla bla bla interrogation interrogation” instead of things blowing over and collectively forgetting about it, like you thought. Things got even weirder.

“Oz I swear to fucking god” you say staring at Oswald you’re second brother and the one closest to your age. “What!” He said defensively, “I didn’t do anything!” “I know you’re the one who stole Bethany” “You’re still on about that fucking Minecraft horse! It’s been two years!” “Bethany, my beloved, the horse I rightfully stole from Paisley!” “literally just admitted the horse wasn’t originally yours!- why are we having this conversation again!” “Because-“ “excuse me!” You and your brother's conversation was interrupted by a complete stranger. To be fair the two of you were talking very loudly in a very public, very busy dinner. The man standing in front of you looked to be around your sister's age. Tall and a little muscular with a 9 year old kid hiding behind him, glaring at you like you’re a potential threat. “I’m so sorry to disturb your……?” “Important business transaction” you say with gravity sitting in your Luray Caverns gift shop hoodie, sweatpants and slippers. “Minecraft server discussion” Oz clarifies “IMPORTANT. BUSINESS. TRANSACTION!” “Riiiight” the strange man said awkwardly, the child still glaring.

He clears his throat glancing away before glancing back. “Well as you can see all the other tables are full, I was wondering if it was alright for us to sit with you?” He asks with a warm smile, looking more at you than Oswald. You and Oswald look at each other “Huddle!” You yelp, and then you both lean over the table and turn your backs to them whispering to each other. “People do that??” You ask “I’ve only heard about it in like old movies??” Oz responds, “ya this is weird” “umm” the tall man interrupts, “we can hear you?” The both of you turn around at the exact same time and say “Okay and?” Then go back to your huddle. “I don’t trust them, look at the kid. I bet he’s plotting are murder.” “I don’t know, maybe his face is just stuck like that?” “It is” the tall man once again interrupts. “See?” “You have far too much faith in people” Oz says, shaking his head, shaming you. “Someone has too, if I don't, who's going to stop you from kicking an innocent person who was just trying to ask for directions in the nuts?” He flushes and mumbles “I thought we agreed to not talk about that”.

“I made no such agreement” you glance back at them still standing there awkwardly. Now that you think about it they look familiar. “Hay do I know you?” You ask them, which makes the tall one jump a little, the kid just stands there like a Gargoyle. “Umm no, but you’ve probably seen me on YouTube or the news or something.” You quickly turn back to your brother “oh god it’s a influencer” “fuck” “I’m not a-“ for the first time since they approached you the child speaks “except your fate as an influencer Grayson” which just makes Grayson(?) sigh, looking at the ground defeated. The two of you continue to debate for another few minutes before you both turn back to them, both of you putting a single hand on the table. “Okay!” You say “you may sit with us” Oz finishes. At some point in this conversation a waitress had arrived and stood there watching you four. Looking a mix of tired and confused. “So can I get your guys order?” “Orange juice, Greek Omelette with white bread, please” you tell her in quick succession. “Bro, what? I haven’t seen you look at the menu once since you invited me here to talk about Minecraft’s horses?” “There’s this thing called looking up the menu before you arrive?” “You’re insane, you’re literally insane” Oz says looking at you like you grew three heads.

“No, I'm being practical! I’m not going to sit here for 3 hours debating what I want, when I can get it as soon as possible once I get here!” You two instantly begin arguing again. Grayson and Gargoyle child glance at each other as the waitress writes down the order and mumbles “not this shit again” before walking away. The duo then look back at you two still yelling at each other. Grayson awkwardly slides next to you, Gargoyle child sitting next to Oswald. “Your lucks run out Rabbit boy!” “Stop that!” “No! You Rabbit brained water moccasin!” “We should have never gotten you Epic Mickey!” “Epic Mickey and Epic Mickey 2: Power of 2 were masterpieces of storytelling and Wii physics! Not getting them for me would have been child abuse!” “No it fucking wouldn’t!” “Child abuse!” “Is that true Grayson?” The Gargoyle child asked Grayson. “What?” said man replied, looking confused.

“Is it child abuse?” Gargoyle child had what could only be described as grinch’s smile as he said this. “What no-“ “YES” you yell, instantly cutting him off, slamming your hands on the table making the silverware jump, as well as your two guests. “Yes” you repeat this time softer and with less force, slightly embarrassing as your brother just rolled his eyes. “Denying a small innocent child such a joy is clearly-“ you begin only for your eyes to go wide “oh my god you're too young to know what a wii is” the boy nods. “Uuug I feel oooold!” You groan, sinking down the plastic of the booth, then you shoot up again “hold up- isn’t there a reboot on the switch??” You quickly pull out your phone and start typing away.

As you do the waitress returns and hands you and Oz your food. “Hold on-“ Grayson says “He didn’t order anything?” The waitress sighs, “the whole family are regulars” she explains, “whenever they show up this one” she points to you “oh my god it’s already out!” You quickly look up from your phone “thank you!” And then back towards it. “Already knows exactly what they want and this one” she points to Oz who gives a soft “thanks” “will sit here for 40 or so minutes trying to figure out what he wants, only to order the exact same thing.” “Aa” “ya, so” she pulls out her pen and paper. “Are you two going to order anything” “oh right um-“ Grayson fumbles with the menu and Gargoyle child calmly looks at him. The two quickly order their food and turn back to you too.

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves yet.” Grayson says, you look up from your phone and at him. “Oh ya” putting it away you hold out your hand and tell him your name “I’m Richard” he says with a bright smile, shaking your hand. You resist the urge to make a joke “but most people just call me Dick!” Now you really resist the urge to make a joke. “Damian” Gargoyle child says glaring eyes looking into your soul. You’re brother looks back and forth between the two “Oswald” he gumpaly introduces then takes a bite of his food. The four of you sit and chat together but quickly Oswald starts acting strange. By the time breakfast is over and you say your goodbyes to the group.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” “I think” Oswald begins, looking around suspiciously. “That those two were..” he leans closer and whispers, “Wayne’s kids” “What!” You say in surprise. “That’s crazy! Why would someone like them be at a dinner?” “You” everything about him, from voice to posture to expression was dead serious. “Bitch what” “think about it! You just pop up out of nowhere, prove your well, ya know” he scans the crowd of people walking along the Gotham sidewalk like anyone could be listening in. “Then nothing happens?” He continues, “okay, okay, okay i’m hearing you out you’re making sense, proof?” “fucking Google Dick Grayson” rolling your eyes, you whip out your phone and do just that. Only for your eyes to go wide, “oh shit” “ya” “they weren’t even trying to hide it” “ya!” “oh my god I called Dick Grayson an influencer!” “That cannot be what you just took away from that!” Oswald says clearly distressed.

Dick closes the car door and quietly buckles in as Damian sits in the seat next to him, “soo?” He asks starting up the car. “You’re on my side now?” Damian scoffs, “of course not! Why would I want someone like them in the family?” Dick rolls his eyes. “Come on, you like them!” “No I don’t!” “You joined in with their jokes!” “So?” Dick just gives an affectionate sigh as he starts driving away.

“You wanna get Epic Mickey?”

“….”

“….”

“Yes”

Sitting in a cafe and staring at your laptop, work for one of your colleague classes right in front of you. Dispute coming from a family that consists primarily of accountants and other jobs that mean you're good with numbers, you were not so good at it. Which is why you’re here, in a cafe, with your work barely done or understandable. Paisley having wandered off to the bathroom, not helping you, like she said she would! Sure you didn’t take Acting because you thought you would never need to do most math’s again, but you expect it to be a part of it. But noooo, you still needed a math credit, you wanted to just curl up into a tiny ball and cry. Maybe die, dying sounds good right about now. No! No! Bad, what did the therapist say again? Jokes like this are bad for your mental health, no matter how desperately you wanted to at times like this.

As you stare at the screen trying to magically make the problems un problem themselves a tall and rather intimidating man shows up. “Are you alright?” He asks concerned, “you’re staring very… intently at that computer” you groan “Math” “aaa” he nods in understanding, then slides into your sister’s chair. Turning it around and resting his arms on the back. You raise an eyebrow and straighten up but say nothing, kidnappings in broad daylight aren’t new to Gotham, but you would rather give him the benefit of the doubt. You don’t want to live a life of constant fear.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks, tilting his head, like a dog. But before you could respond your sister comes out of the bathroom, she very aggressively puts her hand on the table. The buff man looks up at your sister “Hi Paisley” you great, you’re sister although shorter than the man is almost as buff. She glares down at him “you’re in my seat” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey I mean no-“ “what do you want with my sibling?” She begins immediately interrogating them. The handful of people inside the cafe turn to look at the commotion. “Paisley calm down, we were just talking! Barely at that!” “Ya, miss! All I’m doing is trying to have a conversation!” The buff man says defensively “Bullshit!” Paisley interrupts “answer my question! What. do. you. want. with. them” “I just wanted to talk! Geez!” He throws up his hands and then stands up, leaving the Cafe as a whole.

Your sister's chest puffs with pride as you stare at her dumbfounded. “The fuck was that???” She calmly turns the chair back around and sits down, most of the other people have gone back to minding their own business. Key word:most “what? He was bothering you” “no he wasn’t???” She looks at you in disbelief, “do you seriously not know who that was??” Now it’s your turn to look at her confused. “No?? Should I?” She puts her hands in her face “Jesus Christ” then looks back at you. “That was one of his kids!” “Who?- oh” “ya! I thought you would be more aware after last time!” You shrug, “why should I? Not that big a deal” “not that-what?!?” Paisley looks like she wants to strangle you from across the table. “Ya, I mean I get it” “you??-“ “Listen, if you suddenly discover you had another sibling that no one knew about, wouldn't you be curious too?” She sighs at your question, “when did are lives become a soup opera?” Chuckleing lightly you respond “I know right?” Before going back to serious mode. “But that’s not the point. The point is that I admittedly wasn’t expecting this, but now that it’s happening, I’m not that surprised. At least they have the decency of meeting at a public place and not like a shady alleyway or something.” The stress is clear on her… we’ll everything. Even starting to massage her head like a migraine is coming on. “God, this entire situation is so fucked” she says slumping down putting her head on the table.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments before you finally speak up. “Sooo Bethany?” She groans annoyed as you’ve been bothering her about this all week. “Fucking fine! I’ll do it!” “Yessss” you do a little fist bump, one step closer to your plan.

Jason pulls out his phone, agitated at having been interrupted in such a manner. His back is pressed against the wall of the ally he’s in, tapping his foot as he waits for Dick to pick up. “Hay Jay!” The chiper voice eventually picks up, “that was fast!” “I didn’t even get 5 minutes to speak to them” Jason hears a low whistle coming from Dicks end. “What happened?” “Well you were right, they definitely figured out what was happening and went on the defensive. Their step sister chased me off almost immediately.” “You?” He said in disbelief “she chased you, Jason Todd, Mr. Murder Kill, off??” “I wasn’t going to pick a fight with a civilian in public!” He could hear Dick laughing on the other end.

Jason’s grip on the phone tightens as he hears this, “So!” Dick says once he stops. “What do you think?” “I don’t know! I didn’t have enough time to form an opinion!” “An opinion if formed-“ “within the first 10 seconds of meeting someone” Jason interrupts, “there okay I guess?” He says, sounding almost confused. “I couldn’t get a good read on them. I still haven’t the faintest clue what they want” “To be a part of the family?” Dick responds, this not being the first or last time he said this since the family learned about you. “Ya no, definitely not that” Jason says shaking his head, “I’ll continue my part of the investigation” “Alright Jay! Have a good day!” Jason hangs up, rolling his eyes and putting away his phone.

Standing by a railing you watch the skateboarders around the park. Why you agreed to meet him here of all places you don’t know, he doesn’t even like skateboarding! You don’t either but that’s not really the point. The point is you’re meeting him here, to make a very important deal. A familiar figure walks next to you and places his arms against the railing. “I know what you’re planning” he says, you don’t even glance at your eldest brother. Cody is the smartest of your siblings, nothing gets past him, absolutely nothing.

It’s what makes him such great competition.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” you say in a flat tone, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “You’re trying to restart the Bethany war, going to every member of the surver one by one and making deals so they all turn on each other. But the question is why?” You chuckle at that. “Why? you know why, the server is getting dull, everyone is playing on it less and less. We need another big event, another game, another Bethany war.” There’s almost a cruel glee in your tone, a joy at the life this chose will bring back to the server like it had all that time ago. Only for your dramatic performance to be rudely interrupted by a mildly concerned “umm excuse me?”.

You both turn around and see a skateboarder, he looks to be roughly your age wearing Red Robin(pronounced like the jungle) merch. “What is happening here?” He asks looking back and forth at the two of you like he just watched two villains openly discussing their plans for world domination. Which if you two were, he's doing a very bad job at keeping his life. “Minecraft server stuff” you and Cody say at the same time, Red Robin Kid(because he is a kid until further notice) makes a small ‘o’ with his mouth and then nods like that all makes sense now. Knowing how the average Minecraft server operates it definitely does.

Red Robin kid then looks around “sooo, why not discuss this over like a call, or DMs?” “Not dramatic enough” you shrug, “also not safe enough when anyone else involved can easily overhear or find the messages.” Cody continues, leading you to nod in agreement. “So, you’re dramatically talking about a Minecraft war in a skate park, for fun?” You two look at each other and then back at Red Robin kid. “Ya” “basically” “why a skate park?” You turn to look at Cody, he just shrugs. You turn back to the kid, “cause” he just looks at the two of you for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to speak some more only for one of his friends to call his name, he looks at them then back at you. Like he’s debating something, then he goes to his friends. “I want in on it” Cody says continuing we’re the conversation left of “I wouldn’t have it any other way”.

“By the way you really need to memorize the Wayne’s”

“He’s a Wayne???”

“You what?” Bruce said in a calm tone, “I ran into them by complete accident when I was at the skate park this morning.” Tim says in his full Red Robin gear, working on the batcomputer. “Sure it was by accident” Jason said sarcastically, “no really! I didn’t even know they’d be there” “Just being dramatic?” Bruce asks. “There a Acting student Bruce” Tim replied looking towards his adoptive father, “there you’re child Bruce” Dick says walking over and adjusting his suit. “Drama is clearly in your blood.” all he does is sigh and shake his head. “Care to explain what you all were even doing behind my back?” Dick, Jason, Tim and Damien just stood there quietly. As he said that Duke and Cas walk into the batcave. Duke in his pajamas and eating a bag of chips and Cas fully in gear.

Duke looks around the room and then quietly tries to leave “you’re not going anywhere” Bruce says before he can even take a step back. “We were just investigating them, Father” Damien finally chimes in, “as you are too, it’s extremely suspicious that they would appear out of nowhere like that” “takes one to know one” Tim mumbles, only to be sent a glare by the child. “Their story checks out” Bruce begins, “all of us have combed it over several times” “ya but what’s there motive for even telling you” Jason chimes in. “Because, it’s the right thing to do, is a flimsy excuse” “ hold on” Duke says, “are we talking about the new kid?” Duke takes a minute searching his memory for your name before saying it.

Bruce nods, “yes, they’ve been doing their own private investigations.” “So stalking?” “Yes” “Hay!” Dick interrupts, “Tim stalks, we investigate” “I’m literally the only one here that didn’t meet them intentionally!” Tim looks at them offended. “Please tell me you didn’t corner them in an alley or something” Duke asks looking distressed. “Of course not!” “Oh thank god” “were you not investigating them?” Jason asks, Duke just shrugs “Hold on- are you not looking into them?” “Outside of a basic social media check? No, not really, I don’t really care” “Im definitely stalking them.” Cas signs from next to him. “I have followed them home on several occasions.” They all turn to look at Cas, “thoughts?” Dick asks and Cas just shrugs “there alright” “YA!” He points at her, “Cas is on my side! So is Duke!” “I’m neutral actually” Bruce just sighs. Completely uncertain of we’re this is going to go.

In an undisclosed location four people sat around a round table, several different stacks of paper put on top of it. As well as computers, drinks and snacks, “things aren’t going to plan” the oldest of the group, a man in his mid 60’s, said as he looked over the documentation. “When do things ever?” The youngest of the group said, flipping a knife in his hands. “Well none of our businesses are being affected” said the second eldest of the group, “that’s not what we’re talking about and you know that!” The final member of the group almost yells, slamming her hands on the table. “You even intentionally led one of them right to them!” He just shrugs at the accusation, “I wanted to see what would happen, honestly Lucky over here” he nods to the man messing with a knife who then flips him off “got a more in-depth experience” he does sparkly hands “than the rest of us” the old man sighs. “Please don’t fight about this right now, we have more important matters to discuss!” “How is this not important!” “It is! But that’s family talk! This is villain talk time!” Cody rolls his eyes, “the potential of them crossing over is getting closer and closer.” The trio’s father sighs at that.

“I don’t like we’re this is going” “none of us do!” Paisley yells, “they just had to be a decent human being!” “Well that was the goal with raising you four” there Father buts in. Oswald nods “and you did a good job” Paisley just stares at him for a few seconds absolutely baffled. “YOU LITERALLY KILLED TWO PEOPLE LAST WEEK!” “HAY-“ Oswald interrupts “they we’re cops” “please don’t kill more people” There Father says pained. “We don’t want to be labeled supervillain we-“ “can’t risk being caught by a Batman of all people” they all say in sink. “Tell Cody that!” Paisley says pointing at the lounging man, “he’s trying to become Nightwings Riddler! But is failing miserably because he’s bad at making riddles!” “I should just make puzzles” he mumbles to himself, “I’m good at making puzzles, The Puzzler” “Puzzle me this Nightwing!” She says, mocking The Riddler’s voice. “Maybe you would be a better villain if you got Nightwing’s dick out your mouth!” Oswald exclaims annoyed, which Cody doesn’t even dignify with a reply. “Can we please get back on topic?” There Father practically begs, “I don’t know Cody’s one sided attraction to Nightwing seems pretty important” Paisley mumbles. “You can never be like Cat Woman” Oswald stage whispers, Cody actually looks kinda offended at that. There Father stares almost defeated at his squabbling children. He wants nothing more than to keep them safe, and can only feel like he’s falling miserably.

[starkwlkr]

girl, so confusing | f1

an: this is SADLY the last part :( don’t worry, i do plan on writing more fics for the f1 dilf!! here’s your long awaited reveal on the baby daddy lol made this one extra long for y’all <3 enjoy!!

part 1 part 2

faceclaim gisele bündchen

liked by ynstyle, goss1pformulas and others

f1gossiproom could mark webber be the father? recently former red bull and williams drivers, mark and y/n have been spending time together. the pair were spotted having dinner several times and a source confirmed that webber attended y/n’s daughter’s recital! they were once again spotted out in australia spending time in bondi beach with y/n’s daughter (not pictured to protect her privacy) they were soon joined by friends and webber’s family. a source, who wishes to remain anonymous, saw them and said y/n’s daughter, gemma, and mark were bonding as if they were dad and daughter 👀 he even calls her ‘gem’ and ‘gemmy’! what do you think? is mark webber the real father? we certainly think so!

formulaho3 how about just leave them alone?

roscoesno1fan mark looks like a total dilf in that pic so yes

oscarspastry what if the real father is the friends we made along the way?

webberxvettel i need to know the truth before i die

hamiltonsmerecedes not f1 twitter trying to cancel y/n for getting with their faves 😭

lnwhores i stand by my cancelled wife

myhonestbitchface and when y/n reveals that sebastian is the bd then what 🤨 i feel it in my gut 👀 that german bitch is the bd

blackwidowswife bitch you’re just hungry

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THE PADDOCK SESSIONS has posted a new YouTube video!

Italics = voiceover by y/n

“Hello!” Y/n’s daughter, Gemma, opened the door to Dan. She knew that he was going to film an interview with her mother about her racing career. She watched as Dan’s camera man waved to her. She assumed they had already started filming.

“Gemma hates and loves when I’m away. She stays with her grandparents when I have to leave or if her dad is not busy then they’ll be together. I think she loves it because her dad lets her have ice cream before bed. I’m more of a strict parent between me and him.”

Photos of little Gemma appear on screen. The young girl was picture with her mother on her first birthday, then with Mark and family members then Sebastian and Jenson.

Dan entered Y/n’s London home with Gemma by his side. He spotted Y/n making tea. “Got here just in time.” He laughed as he joined the former driver in the kitchen.

“I hope the flight here wasn’t too bad.” Y/n passed a mug over to Dan.

“Slept my way through it,” before Dan could take a sip from his tea, he noticed the mug that he was given. It had ‘best dad ever’ sloppily written in paint. “Cute.” He held the mug up and smiled.

“Yeah, Gemma made it for her dad last year for Father’s Day.” Y/n smiled proudly at her daughter’s creation.

That’s when Gemma joined the conversation. “But I couldn’t give it to him on actual Father’s Day! He was away racing and couldn’t be here so I had to give it to him later.” She explained.

After the pair finished their tea, they walked together to Y/n’s small garden. There she had a little seating area where the rest of the interview would take place.

“Lovely garden.” Dan commented.

“Thank you, although I won’t take all the credit. Sebastian comes to help, Gemma kind of bosses him around telling him where each flower looks best.” Y/n laughed, setting her mug on the glass table.

“Dad loves the flowers I picked out for the garden.” Gemma pointed out as she joined them outside. As Dan started the interview, Gemma kept playing outside with her toys.

More images of a young Y/n flashed on screen. She was driving for Williams at the time, they were her first ever team.

“Williams was my first home. They were nice to me, but they put so much pressure on me to perform, like every race had to be perfect. And when it wasn’t, you could feel the disappointment, like a weight hanging in the air. I’d go back to my hotel room at night, and it was just me and the silence.”

The video showed a clip of young Y/n in the Williams garage getting ready for her debut race. She noticed the camera then smiled and waved. The video then cuts to from a happy, full of life Y/n to a gloomy, quiet Y/n sitting alone in her garage.

“I didn’t have friends in the paddock back then. Everyone was focused on their own thing, and the people around me—the trainers, the engineers—they all kept their distance. One of my trainers actually told me, ‘I’m not here to be your friend; I’m here to work.’ And that’s when I realized I was completely on my own."

Y/n then looked over her shoulder and saw Gemma using a teddy bear that her father had bought the girl for her birthday last year in Germany. The former driver smiled at the memory of her little family spending a special day together.

Back to the interview, Y/n then talked to Dan about her divorce. It was a dark time for her. She had been young when she said ‘I Do’ to a man she thought was the love of her life. At the time of her marriage, her husband was six years older. She was nineteen at the time, about to turn twenty.

Several headlines from the day her marriage was announced appeared on screen.

“Barely an Adult, Already a Wife: Y/N Marries Six Years Her Senior”

“Y/N’s Whirlwind Marriage: Chasing Love, Not Podiums?”

“Teenage Racer’s Rush to the Altar: Desperate for Love or Just Immature?”

“Is Y/N Looking for Validation in All the Wrong Places?”

“‘She’ll Marry Anyone’: Critics Slam Y/N’s Hasty Decision at Just 19”

"They painted me as some kind of desperate girl who couldn’t handle being alone. The truth was, I was 19, scared, and in love—or at least I thought I was. But that didn’t matter to them. They just wanted to sell papers."

Dan then spoke. “What led to the divorce?”

Y/n sighed deeply. Only a few people knew the real reason. “It’s . . . a complicated thing to talk about. I mean, when you’re nineteen and in love, or what you think is love, you don’t always see the red flags. At the time, I thought I’d found someone who believed in me, who would support me no matter what. But as time went on, I realized that wasn’t the case."

A picture of Y/n getting ready by herself on her wedding day appears on screen. Her family were not present as her husband at the time wanted it to be only them. She smiled brightly at the camera as her photo was taken. The image fades then clips of Y/n racing in the early 2000s play.

“He wanted a family. Kids, a house, the whole thing. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but he wanted it then, right when my career was just beginning. He gave me an ultimatum—racing or him."

Dan lightly gasped at her words. “Oh . . .”

“I chose racing. How could I not? It was everything I’d worked for, everything I’d dreamed of. But he didn’t take it well. He made me feel like I was selfish, like I was throwing away a chance at a ‘real’ life."

Several more images of Y/n and her then husband flash on screen. There’s no photos of him attending races, mostly because he thought racing was dumb and didn’t like loud crowds.

“He didn’t trust me. Whenever I was away at races, he’d insist I call him every single day, sometimes multiple times. If I missed a call because I was in a meeting or debrief, he’d accuse me of . . . things. Things that weren’t true. I couldn’t even have a normal conversation with my trainer or my team principal without worrying about how he’d react."

"There were times I wanted to visit my family, to go home and just breathe. But he’d make me feel so guilty for even thinking about it, like I was abandoning him. So I stopped trying."

The screen cuts back to Y/N on the sofa. Her hands are clasped tightly now, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of emotion.

“And then the divorce was final and for a moment I was happy until he went to the media spreading all sorts of lies.” Y/n added.

Several more magazine headlines appear on screen.

“The Truth About Y/N: Ex-Husband Reveals Why Their Marriage Failed”

“‘She Wanted the World to Love Her, Not Me’: Y/N’s Ex Speaks Out”

“‘All She Cared About Was Fame’: Y/N’s Ex-Husband Speaks Out About Their Divorce”

Then the screen cuts to clips of Y/n’s ex husband being interviewed about their marriage.

“I sacrificed so much to support her career, but she couldn’t give me the one thing I wanted: a family. She was too busy chasing the cameras and the glory.”

“It was rough. Instead of being asked about racing, I was asked about my failed marriage.” Y/n recalled all the times during interviews when her ex-husband’s name was mentioned. “I just wanted to go home a cry, but I had a job to do. But of course the attention I was getting got me fired.”

“How were you told you were no longe driving for Williams?” Dan asked.

“Would you believe it if I said it was a ten second phone call from Claire Williams?” Y/n laughed. “Claire and I were never enemies. A few days after I got her call, she had dinner in my house and explained to me that she didn’t want to be the one to call me, but she was pressured to. Apparently the Williams team thought it was best for her to tell me in a phone call because they thought it would be ‘easier’ if the news came from her, since she’s a woman. They thought it would hurt less coming from her. Can you believe that?"

Dan noticed how Y/n laughed at the mention of the famous ten second phone call.

“It was definitely ridiculous of them. But they didn’t understand how humiliating it was either way. But Claire . . . I could tell she hated it. She ended the call so quickly because she didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want me to be dropped from the team."

A photo showed of Claire Williams talking to Y/n before a race. At the time, Y/n didn’t know it, but Claire was her only friend.

“I don’t blame her for how it happened. She was caught in the middle of a decision that wasn’t hers to make. And honestly, her coming to my house afterward to explain—that meant something. It didn’t fix anything, but it showed she cared." Y/n finished drinking her tea then resumed speaking. “That ten-second call changed everything for me. But at least I know it wasn’t Claire’s choice. It was just . . . Williams being Williams."

“After everything that happened with Williams, you had every reason to step away from the sport. But instead, you joined McLaren. Looking back now, would you say that was the decision that changed everything for the better?" Dan questioned. He watched as her face softened. She truly adored her time with mclaren.

Y/n nodded. “Joining McLaren felt like a fresh start, like a second chance to prove what I was capable of. At Williams, I was just surviving. But at McLaren, I got to thrive."

Clips of Y/n during her time with the mclaren team played. Her smile was genuine and she looked happier than ever.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep racing. I didn’t know if I could trust another team. But McLaren . . . they believed in me in a way no one else had."

"It wasn’t just about the racing, though. McLaren gave me a second chance, not just at my career, but at myself. It reminded me why I fell in love with this sport in the first place."

“And then came those three idiots.” Y/n laughed when she remembered becoming friends with Mark, Jenson and Sebastian. Her cheeks tinting slightly, but her smile stays steady.

“But with that friendship came negative comments. I remember reading articles calling you horrible names just for having friendships with them.” Dan commented.

“Those negative comments still come my way even after many years,” Y/n added. “I stayed away from social media for that same reason until recently.”

“But with sharing your life on social media also came questions about your daughters life as well.”

Y/n knew it was something that was going to come up in the interview. Dan didn’t want to ask, but Y/n wanted to share. Gemma’s father and her had discussed it before and they both agreed to the interview.

“Yeah, the whole ‘who’s the father?’ thing has taken over every social media app i have. I can’t avoid it, especially when people constantly message me about it.” Y/n spoke. “Jenson thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Jenson?” Dan questioned.

“Yeah, he sent me a meme about it comparing us to Mamma Mia. I sent it to Sebastian and he sent it to Mark.”

The remainder of the interview, Y/n talked about her family she shared with the man who endlessly supported through everything. Every time she talked about him, she smiled brightly. It was clear that she loved him and their daughter more than anything.

As the video came to an end, Gemma was seen running towards someone who was out of frame. “Dad’s home!” Gemma jumped into his arms and hugged him.

“I thought you were flying in next week.” Y/n stood up to hug him.

“I come here to surprise you and Gem and this is how I’m treated?” He placed a kiss on Y/n’s temple, still holding onto Gemma. “Sorry, I definitely interrupted you two, haven’t I?”

“It’s alright, Jenson. We were just wrapping things up.”

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, wagstyle and others

f1gossip after finally revealing the identity of her daughter’s father, y/n and her daughter gemma were seen together in a beach in california 👀 jenson button also lives in california so we’re thinking the button family is spending some time together.

vettelsbees GIRL SEB WAS SPOTTED AT LAX

hamiltonsmercedes AND MARK

nicorosbergisadiva WHAT IS GOING ONNNN

landonorris hey i know her

ferraridepressionclub ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HEREEE

webbertears what do you know you gremlin

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“Can I have money for ice cream?” Gemma ran up to her parents, Mark and Sebastian. The former drivers were all enjoying the sunshine of California, an idea that came from Gemma. She had been the one to call Mark and Sebastian to join her and her parents. They agreed even if they cancelled their plans with friends. They would literally do anything for the young girl.

Without hesitation, all the men took out their wallets and took out money for the girl. Their actions caused both Gemma and Y/n to laugh.

“Okay, thank you.” She gladly took the money from each of them.

“I’ll go with you, Gemmy,” Mark said as he got up from his spot and took Gemma’s hand in his. Together they walked to the ice cream stand.

“Has Claire called you?” Sebastian wondered. Ever since the interview was posted, the Williams team had posted several posts of Y/n when she was driving for them. They were finally acknowledging her wins and podiums. And of course they received some criticism from fans.

“She messaged me letting me know she watched the interview. She’s happy I did it.” Y/n replied.

“We all are. You should’ve done the interview years ago.” Jenson said.

Y/n only nodded and turned her attention to Mark and Gemma. The girl had always been close to both the German and Australian drivers, how couldn’t she when they had been in her mothers life and now they were in hers.

“Gemma asked if she could go to a race, but she wants you all to be there.” Y/n spoke up. Gemma desperately wanted the three men to join her. Y/n knew they would all say yes immediately.

“Did she say which one?” Sebastian asked.

“She said she wants to go to each of your home races.” Y/n grinned as Jenson immediately said he was in. Sebastian laughed then nodded. Of course they would join Gemma, the girl had them all wrapped around her finger.

“And will you be attending too?” Jenson winked at her. “We could do a repeat of what happened after Australia.”

“Funny, I was about to suggest the same thing but it happened in Canada.” Sebastian teased.

“Well weren’t you a busy woman.” Jenson smirked. “And Mark?”

Y/n kept quiet, innocently sipping her lemonade. After setting her drink down, the former drivers waited for her answer. “If you must know . . . We were in Vegas.”

Jenson groaned. “I was thinking Monaco.”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, baby.”

[azzifuddfanpage]

testing the waters

OKAY NEW PAZZ FIC THANKS TOO 😛 ANON

There would not have been a fic if it weren’t for their amazing prompt so bless 😍

^if u wanna read their prompt look at my last post

themes: friends to lovers/ fluff

tw: SMUT

Azzi walked through the doors of Gampel Pavilion. She had just gotten to campus not even an hour before and was already having her first meeting with the team. 

Azzi stood by the back with the other freshman. Still getting adjusted to the thrill of the change in atmosphere. 

Standing on the court was unreal. Azzi turned her head admiring the bleachers and banners that lined the walls. She took in all the greats that came before her, all names she knew and studied growing up. She couldn’t believe that she was finally here, hopefully going to follow in their footsteps.

Azzi listened carefully as Geno’s voice carried through the walls.

“This team that is here right now is one that will never be the same again. This year, with this team, this is temporary. Next year there will be new people, seniors will be gone, and the team will be a whole new team again.” He paused scanning the room eyeing the freshman. 

“You will value every moment you have with this team, build your chemistry now or it will be too late.”  He continued pacing along in front of the group. 

Azzi felt someone’s hand brush against her wrist and a warm gentle breath draw close to her ear. 

“Don’t worry he is all talk. He’s not this scary all the time- well actually maybe just try to stay on his good side.” Azzi knew this voice. 

She turned her head slightly coming face to face with Paige Bueckers. She actually hadn’t prepared herself for how close they would really be, accidentally turning and even feeling  Paige’s breath on her lips. Azzi’s face flushed and she tried to play it off backing up and giggling.

—-

Her and Paige went way back. Paige was even one of the reasons she went to UConn in the first place. 

They had been best friends since 2016 when they met playing for team USA. All it took was one plane ride back to Minnesota and they were best friends for life.

Azzi always had loved Paige. Her laugh, her smile, her long blonde hair, her big blue eyes, her pink lips… just normal best friend type of stuff. But as she got older she started to feel differently about Paige. About girls in general.

Azzi had always liked boys- well she liked watching movies about them. Love and basketball was her favorite movie- “I want that type of relationship.” Azzi would say, almost convincing herself. 

The thing was, she never really knew if she actually ever had feelings for a guy before. Yes she thought they were attractive. In a world where she personally knew Steph Curry, who wouldn’t think guys were attractive. But the thing was, whenever she pictured a future it never included a guy. Infact Azzi would picture herself alone before she would picture herself settling down with a guy. 

Her and Paige even talked about living together jokingly as high schoolers in a purely innocent way.

“If we both don’t find someone by the time we are thirty- I’m gonna have to just marry you.” Paige said with a laugh. Azzi laughed but her laugh never went deeper than the surface. She would have given anything to live with Paige, to marry her, to spend the rest of her life with her. Things would have just been so much easier. 

But what did any of that even mean. Paige was just her best friend. Her beautiful, talented best friend, her hot as fu-. Azzi didn’t really finish that thought. Shutting it down before she could let herself admit what she deep down knew already. 

—-

“Ya I don’t know about that he seems pretty serious.” Azzi whispered back looking up and gulping when she saw Geno look at her while he spoke. 

Paige reassuringly squeezed her wrist, sending butterflies down Azzi’s stomach. Actually they felt more like bald eagles than butterflies to be honest. 

—-

An hour later after he was done talking they had a few hours to go back to the dorms before their offseason weight room. 

Since Underclassman were not allowed to have cars on campus- Azzi being a freshman and Paige a sophmore decided to walk back to the dorms rather than hitching a ride with the others. 

“So… what do you think of the campus so far. It’s awesome, you can say I was right and thank me whenever.” Paige said confidently as she watched Azzi scan the surroundings wide eyed, and taking everything in. 

“Ya everything is so much bigger. I’m gonna need an extra hour to get from class to class at this point.” Azzi replied with a laugh. 

They continued walking going about their day as usual. 

Azzi was excited for this new life at UConn, she looked forward to it. But something about the way Paige looked at her left her wanting more.

As the day turned to night everyone retired to their rooms.

After what felt like forever of just laying in bed unable to sleep Azzi sat up. 

12:30 AM Azzi read on her clock next to her. She flopped back down defeatedly. 

Azzi had never been away from her parents for more than a day, every team USA tournament her parents went to. She never didn’t have someone to tuck her in. 

“Not even 24 hours and I miss my mommy like I’m a five year old.” Azzi whispered to herself.

It may have been better if she had a roomate but no such luck. Her roomate, Ines was an exchange student meaning she would be flying in the next week instead of this one, meaning Azzi was stuck alone. 

She couldn’t hide the tear that slipped out of her eye. She could hear people talking down the hall. Her teammates maybe-hopefully.

She climbed out of bed, wearing her black tank top and pink boxer shorts and made her way out of her room. A little down the hall she saw Paige. 

Her blonde hair was unmistakable. Her laugh echoing down the long hallway. 

Azzi started to walk towards her when suddenly she got a glimpse of the person she was talking to. 

The girl was probably one of the prettiest ones she had ever seen- paige was prettier- and she had thick brown curls like Azzi, and tanned skin a bit lighter than Azzi’s. 

Azzi watched from a far, the pit in her stomach increasing at the way the girl reached out and squeezed Paige’s arm as she laughed. 

Azzi began to turn to head back down the hallway, not wanting to make herself feel any worse than she already felt, and ended up walking right into a lamp. 

The sound of the lamp colliding with the floor made Paige shift her attention down the hall where she saw…

“Azzi? Is that you?” She said confused as to why the freshman was up this late when she knew she always went to bed rather early. 

Azzi froze in her tracks, picking up the lamp and setting it back on the table. Wiping off her tears, she turned slowly. 

“Hi Paige.” She muttered just loud enough for her to hear. 

She watched as Paige said bye to the girl and they both walked as she walked down the stairs to leave.

Azzi could feel her heart pound as Paige walked closer towards her. 

“Why are you awake.” She checks her phone. “It’s 12:30! You should have been asleep like 3 hours ago huh.” She said softly.

Paige notices the wet streaks on Azzi’s cheek. 

“Baby are you okay?” Paige said wrapping an arm around her back. 

Azzi shivered at the nickname, that alone was enough to make Azzi forget everything that she was worried about. Forget being homesick, Paige was her home. 

“I’ve never slept by myself before.” Azzi admitted. 

Paige knew exactly what she meant. Azzi had always been a homebody, now states away from her parents, she was homesick.

“Oh shit I forgot you don’t even have a roommate either right?” Paige said looking at her and running her fingers through her hair lovingly.

Azzi shook her head. 

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Paige said walking her back to her room with her hand resting low and protectively on Azzi’s back.

As Azzi climbed back into bed, she attentively watched Paige’s every move. 

“Paige?” Azzi asked as Paige reentered her room with a glass of water.

“Ya.” Paige said handing it to Azzi and sitting down on the edge of the bed.  

“Can you stay with me. Just for tonight.” 

Paiges heart jumped. 

“I’ll stay with you everyday until Ines gets here how bout that?” Paige said standing up and kissing her forehead. 

Azzi melted into her touch. She could get used to that. 

Azzi nodded watching paige walk over to the other mattress, that had nothing on it. 

“Sleep with me.” Azzi said. 

Paige raised her eyebrow smirking. 

“OH MY GOD PAIGE!” Azzi shrieked throwing a pillow at her head, which Paige of course caught. 

Laughing Paige climbed into the small twin size bed with her. They were basically on top of each other, but they tried to keep their hands to themselves- for now.

—-

As the nights went by they started growing closer. Their touches were more affectionate as they lingered. Azzi even woke up the third day with Paiges arms wrapped around her waist, her shirt had risen and Paiges hands were dangerously close to her breasts. Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that she actually liked it. 

“Why the fuck do I want my best friend to touch my boobs?” Azzi said with shock, trying to push it to the side and just let Paige cling to her. 

—-

It was finally the weekend. This Saturday they had the day off. 

It was around 11:00 and Paige and Azzi were both in her bed. 

“Hey wanna watch a movie? We don’t have to be up early tomorrow.” Paige said turning to Azzi. “I brought my iPad.” She said grinning.

Azzi giggled, “only if we can watch frozen.” She said.

Paige sighed pulling it out and propping it against a pillow. 

“Whatever you want princess.” She said laughing. 

Azzi was praying to god that the purple led lights masked the red glow of her blush.

It was getting harder and harder for her to hide her feelings for Paige. She was so confused. She was striaght though. Definitely straight. Right??

—-

Halfway through the movie Paige got up to grab some snacks. 

Paige was wearing just a sports bra- literally no clue why- and Azzi could literally feel her heart beating, maybe something else too but she couldn’t pin point it.

Embarrassingly enough Azzi was a virgin. She hadn’t told anyone, no one really asked either. It wasn’t that no one liked her, she simply just didn’t feel the need to be with anyone like that. 

“Why would anyone want to suck someone’s dick that’s just nasty.” Azzi could not understand it for the life of her. 

But now with Paige, she would give anything to feel her fingers inside her…. Maybe she was just finally starting to want to have sex. She was just confused it wasn’t fine.

As paige reentered the room her breath shifted. The pants paige was wearing had hung even lower- showing the outline of her V-line, and she had two waters in her arms. Azzi’s attention immediately scanning up and down her body and then focusing on the vein bulging out of her bicep.

“Like what you see.” Paige smirked making her way over to Azzi and setting down the snacks and waters that were saying down her pockets.

Azzi felt her heat spread to her cheeks.

“Sorry I just-“ she honestly had no idea how to cover that up.

“It’s okay I get it. I have been hitting the weight room.” Paige said wrapping her arm around Azzi laughing as she could feel her tense up under her touch.

Paige always had thought Azzi was straight but now she wasn’t so sure. 

Azzi had never once talked about her love life. And the way she had looked at her the other day when paige was with another girl… the pieces were starting to connect.

A little while later, paige started to get curious, wanting to test her theory out. She began to move her hand a little lower on Azzi’s side. 

She listened to the rise and fall of Azzi’s breath, listened to it speed up as her hand began to move onto her thigh traveling closer and closer inward. 

Paige “coughed” accidentally brushing in between her legs causing Azzi to let out a soft moan. Azzi tried to cover it up with a cough but it was too late.

Paige leaned forward and whispered in her ear. 

“You like it when I touch you princess? Thought u were straight- I should’ve known a pretty girl like u would want something better than a man.” Paige growled causing Azzi to tense up completely caught off guard by her assumption.

Azzi had never told anyone this, she had no idea how Paige was able to see through her so easily.

“Paige I am straight, what are you talking abo-“ she was caught off by another one of her own gasps as Paige ran her hand back around and placed it on her upper ass. 

“See the way you look at me. You sure bout that?” Paige said confidently moving her hand so she was rubbing Azzi’s back through her clothes. 

Azzi’s breath hitched feeling Paiges long fingers slip under her shirt and explore higher on her back.

“You seriously mean to tell me you don’t feel anything when I touch you.” Paige said smirking as she continued to rub her back in a way that left Azzi’s mouth watering in desire. 

“I- I- don’t know. I don’t know what it feels like.” Azzi replied at a low whisper secretly hoping Paige wouldn’t hear it.

“What do you mean? Are you saying you have never had sex before?? What’s a pretty girl like you doing still a virgin.” Paige said honestly her hand stopping and staying rested on her back. 

“I don’t know just never found the right person I guess. I just don’t know what I am, I can’t tell if my feelings are real or not.” 

“We’ll have you ever thought about it.” Paige said simply. 

“Thought about what?” Azzi asked innocently not sure where this conversation was going. 

“About having sex…. I’m sure you have thought about it at least once.” Paige replied.

“I mean I guess kinda but I don’t even know anymore I just feel like my brain is playing tricks on me.” Azzi said shaking her head.

Paige turned Azzi’s face to look at her by grabbing her chin gently. 

“Wanna test it out?” Paige said experimentally. 

“What do you mean test it out.” Azzi asked confused. 

“Paige brought her hand to the front of Azzi’s shirt gently moving it up towards her breasts over her clothes, avoiding them but paying all the attention to them at the same time. 

“I mean why don’t you just try it, like get it out of your system, fuck me and then I gaurentee you will know exactly how you should be feeling.” Paige leaned closer into Azzi’s ear grabbing her by the front of her shirt. 

“I will make you feel better than anyone else baby.” Paige whispered seductively. Azzi could feel something wet between her legs. She couldn’t explain it, it was  feeling she had never really had before.

Without thinking about what this would mean, Azzi nodded.

“Let’s start slow, hm? Ease you into it.” Paige said softly. 

Azzi nodded, she trusted paige more than anything. If paige could show her what she needed to know, then why not. 

With that, Paige brought her lips so they were hovering just above Azzi’s. 

“Let me know when you feel something.” Paige said suggestively right before connecting her lips to Azzi’s. 

There was no turning back now. Both girls sinking into the kiss. Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s back grabbing at her ass, and Azzi instinctively stabilized herself by grabbing Paige’s neck. 

The kiss grew quickly. Azzi let out soft moan telling paige exactly what she needed to know.  The second Azzi opened her mouth again letting out a soft whine against paige’s lips, paige shoved her tongue inside her mouth. 

Azzi moaned into her mouth feeling Paiges tongue fight against her own. Paige really knew what she was doing. 

Both girls worked to get closer to each other, causing paige to lay down on top of Azzi, sticking her leg in between hers. As the kiss quickened, paige moved her knee and pressed it against Azzi’s core causing her to let out a shrill moan. 

She had never been touched like that before, paige knew just how to make her feel seen. No one had ever taken care of her needs like this before. 

As Azzi began to get more comfortable and grind down on her knee desperate for some friction, Paige pulled back from her. 

“You feel anything yet?” Paige said giggling as she could see just how dilated Azzi’s eyebrows were desperately in need of her touch.

“Yes a little.” Azzi admitted focusing down on paige’s fingers that rested on her thigh.

Paige noticed this and smirked, she started to move her fingers closer to Azzi’s center. 

“Only a little?” Paige said slyly. “That’s a shame, I thought I felt a little something myself.” Paige said suggestively leaning forward into Azzi’s ear causing her breath to hitch. 

“And I really wanted to know what my fingers felt like inside of you.” Paige said smirking against Azzi’s ear. 

Azzi couldn’t resist it anymore, grabbbing paige’s collar and pulling her back to her lips.

As Azzi’s tongue filled paige’s mouth, she heard paige let out a tiny soft moan. 

“Need you so bad. Show me please. Teach me.” Azzi whined running her hands along paige’s bare abs. 

Paige smirked knowingly. 

“So needy for me huh.” Paige said reaching down so her thumb was now directly on Azzi’s pussy. She started to rub at it blindly through her clothes.

Feeling Azzi thrust towards her she looked into her eyes.

“Can I take these off baby?” Paige asked not looking away from her big brown eyes begging to be fucked.

Without a word Azzi lifted her but so paige could pull down her shorts and panties in one sweep. 

As the air hit her slick she felt nothing but fear and embarrassment. She tried to close her legs, suddenly afraid of what this would mean for her, but paige caught them keeping them apart. 

Azzi looked into paige’s eyes and saw nothing but love as paige eyed her pussy hungrily. She laughed. Oops.

Paige looked up at her laughter.

“What’s so funny.” Paige asked confused. 

“Nothing it’s just ironic. I think I have had a crush on you this whole time and now hear you are literally staring at my pussy the way I have stared at you all these years.” Azzi answered smiling. 

Paige smirked running her hands up her inner thigh, leaning forward to press a kiss against her. Azzi moaned.

She placed another kiss equidistant to the last one.

“I-“ paige started, then left another kiss, sucking a bit harder this time.

“Have felt-” continuing and leaving another kiss.

“The same-“ going back in one more time right above her mound. 

“Way.” She finished settling so now she was just hovering over her pussy.

“Don’t just love this pussy tho.” Paige winked right before diving in to attack her clit with her tongue licking a long stripe up her starting from the entrance of her hole and ending at the bundle of nerves. Azzi moaned loudly tugging at paige’s hair, partially from the love confession, and also from the feeling of paige’s powerful tongue attacking her clit. 

Azzi couldn’t contain her moans as paige sucked and nipped at her clit pullljngbvack and spiting into it spreading the mixture of spit and cum around her clit with her fingers before sliding one of her fingers teasingly into her hole. 

Azzi thrusted forward greedily, needing to feel paige as close to inside of her as possible. 

“Baby relax” paige started “lemme show you why gay is better.” She finished before shoving a finger into Azzi. 

Azzi’s eyes widened and she propped herself up on her elbows so she could see paige ponding the finger into her and simultaneously using her thumb to rub at her clit in small circles. 

“You’re so tight holy fuck.” Paige said as she added another finger leaving Azzi gasping and  moving one of her hands to pull paige towards her to kiss her. 

Paige swallowed her moans continuing to feel around her cervix with her finger as it went in and out, the wet squishing of Azzi’s cum against paige’s fingers filled the silence of the room. 

Pulling back from the kiss paige resumed her focus on her pussy, attaching her tongue to her clit and sucking as she pounded in and out of her.

Paiges middle finger brushed against her g spot causing Azzi to let out a loud breathy moan, arching her back shoving her pussy into  paige’s face. 

Motivated by Azzi’s actions, paige pulled back again from her clit, using her thumb to rub it up and down, separating her folds to expose the pink center of her clit. 

“Prettiest pussy in the world. She loves me.” Paige whispered as if talking to her pussy. 

Azzi sat up to look again as paige slowed down, when all of a sudden paige used one of her hands to press down on Azzi’s lower stomach making her feel like she was about to pee, and her with her other hand that was thrusting two fingers in and out of her, she slipped in a third, barely fitting it in Azzi’s tight cunt. 

Azzi moaned watching the way her pussy sucked in her fingers so naturally. 

As paige leaned back down to her clit, three fingers still pounding into her with power and force, the pressure of paige’s tongue against her was almost too much. 

“Paige I’m gonna cum oh my god.” Azzi moaned throwing her head back. 

“You can cum for me baby.” Paige said against her pussy the vibrations sending her over the top as she could no longer hold back anymore, streams of cum pouring out of her and paige stuck her tongue out drinking it all up.

Paige slowly worked her fingers getting her through the climax as Azzi was left a heap of tears and moans, still very out of breath. The warm sensation still tingling in her pants. 

“Welp I’m definitely gay.” Azzi said with a laugh as paige joined her on the bed. 

“Thank god, I have been waiting to hear you say that for fucking years.” paige said turning to her.

“Really?!” Azzi said surprised that who she now realized was her childhood crush had felt the same way for all these years.

“Damn we really have been waiting time not trying this sooner.” Azzi continued, laughing as she saw the paige’s mouth still glistening in the lights with her cum. 

“Well I guess we will have to just make this a daily thing then huh.” Paige said smirking pulling Azzi closer to her.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll show you how to eat me.” 

“How about now.” Azzi said confidently flipping them over so paige was back on top of her, where Azzi shimmied down so paige’s cunt was directly above her. 

Pulling her shorts and panties to the side, she got right to work. 

[angstywaifu]

Underestimated - Bodhi Durran

Request/Prompt: Bodhi and reader get into a fight during challenges because Bodhi underestimates her and she kicks his ass. And he finds it really hot and maybe they end up sleeping together from @fictional-babes-inc

Warnings: sparing/fighting, slightly dominant Bodhi. Masterlist | Support Me

Name after name gets called. Riders pairing up against each other on the mat, all of us trying to prove ourselves. It was the one thing the Rider’s Quadrant never lacked. Competition. We were all trying to be the best, trying to make sure we came out on top while we fought on these mats. Especially with Threshing fast approaching. We all wanted to prove we were the better fighter or take out those we saw as threats. And I loved the thrill of it.

”You look like you’re itching for a challenge.” Garrick teases from next to me.

He knew better than anyone how much I enjoyed being on the mat. Having been in the same foster home we knew each other very well. The only person who knew him better than me was probably Xaden, as they knew each other before the rebellion. My parents were part of the rebellion, but they were as high up and were a later addition to the cause. Meaning I didn’t know a lot of the other marked ones as well as the others.

”You know me too well. It’s been too long since I’ve been on that mat.” I tell him with a smile which he mirrors back.

I’d somehow managed to escape being called up for any challenges last week, meaning it had been almost two weeks since I’d been on the mat for a challenge. I’d missed it.

”Tavis, you’re up.” The professor calls up as he waves Garrick over to an open mat, a Cadet from my year going pale at the sight of Garrick walking over. Good luck kid.

Not long after Garrick walks away, Bodhi slots into his place. Yet again late for challenges. I swear he was never on time.

”Are you ever going to be on time for this?” I tease him, rocking into his shoulder as he playfully shoves me away.

”One day, but don’t hold your breath.” He teases back with a goofy grin.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

He laughs in response before turning his attention back to the challenges at hand, mine drifting to Garrick who has the first year pinned to the mat already, their face bright red as Garrick cuts off their airflow with his arm. And he wonders why most of my year are afraid of him.

”Y/N and Felix, you’re up.” The professor calls across the room.

As I go to step forward Bodhi grabs my arm. “He’s going to knock you out, don’t.”

I furrow my brow at Bodhi. Due to his lateness to nearly every challenge he’d never actually seen me fight. And honestly the way he questions my ability now hurts. Especially seeing as Xaden had excused me from the training he had allocated to the other marked ones who were lacking in their fighting skills.

”Don’t think I can handle myself?” I challenge as I step towards him, Bodhi swallowing nervously.

”No, I’m sure I can. But…. He’s like triple you’re size.” He says nervously, clearly noting he’s angered me.

Fine, he thinks I can’t handle myself, I’ll prove him wrong.

I turn my head towards the Professor who is looking at us with a furrowed brow, clearly not liking Bodhi’s interruption. “I’d like to challenge Bodhi Durran instead.”

I feel Bodhi’s grasp on my arm slacken. “Y/N, that’s not what I me-”

”Done. On the mat Cadets.”

I free my arm from Bodhi’s grip, walking past a Garrick who laughs and shakes his head as he heads back to our spot. “Have fun Bodhi.”

I hear Bodhi stutter behind me, worry clearly setting in as he follow me to the mat. He wants to underestimate me? Fine. Just be prepared for the consequences. I turn on the mat to face Bodhi, seeing Garrick and Xaden standing where we were moments ago trying to contain their laughter as Bodhi joins me on the mat.

We both settle into a fighting stance and I’m glad to see a determined look to cross Bodhi’s face. He better not go easy on me. And I hope Garrick’s words were enough for him to rethink his approach to me.

Despite him underestimating me, Bodhi is the first to move, lunging forward as he aims a quick jab at my shoulder. I can tell there isn’t much power behind it, clearly testing how I would react and move. I lean back just enough to feel the air rush past me as he missed by a few inches. I watch as his brow twitches with surprise as I sidestep it with ease.

”Nice reflexes.” He praises as we start to circle each other.

I shrug and smirk at him. “Didn’t think you’d be so predictable.”

I watch as he smirks at my words, clearly seeing the challenge I’ve laid out for him. He might be the softer and more docile version of Xaden and Garrick, but deep down he was the same, you just had to find the right buttons to push.

This time he comes at my harder, faster, his strikes becoming more and more calculated. But unlike him, I’d had weeks to study how he fought. Studying his rhythm, the way he shifted his weight around. He steps towards me, throwing a right hook which I’d seen him do before. I duck low, twisting around him before landing a punch in his back.

’See, predictable.” I tease again.

Bodhi turns and smiles at me before charging at me again, feinting left before he aims a kick towards my ribs. I catch his leg mid air and sweep his other foot out from under him, Bodhi hitting the mat with a loud thud, his shocked expression priceless as I stand over him, pinning him to the mat as I press my foot into his shoulder.

”You good down there?” I joke as he squirms under me.

Bodhi just growls in frustration as he shoves my foot off him, rolling back to his feet as he settles back into a fighting stance. He comes at me again faster and sharper, trying to change things up. Just like Felix, Bodhi had size and strength over me. But I could use that to my advantage like I always did. I let him come at me, blocking and dodging till I see the opening I need. I let him come at me, blocking and dodging until I saw the opening I needed. And when it came I didn’t hesitate. A swift strike to his shoulder throwing him off balance, followed by a solid kick to his knee sending him stumbling backwards onto the mat again, his body landing with a loud thud.

”Point proven.” He grunts out as he rubs the pack of his head which had just missed hitting the mat and had landed on the wooden floor.

”You’re not a sore loser, are you?” I ask, holding my hand out to him.

He grasps my hand, pushing off the ground as I pull him up. “Not when the fights this fun,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking to my lips for just a fraction of a second. He catches himself, looking away quickly, but I saw it. Felt the intensity behind his eyes.

I step back, giving him room to breathe, though part of me wants to see what would happen if I didn’t. “Let me know when you’re ready for a rematch.” I say, turning towards the edge of the mat.

”I might need a minute to recover, from all of that.” He calls out to me.

Just before I step back into the crowd I turn and look at Bodhi, a smirking pulling at the corners of my mouth. “That’s a shame, because I don’t.”

Bodhi’s eyes go wide as Garrick chokes on his laughter as Xaden thumps him on the back, barely containing his own laughter. I don’t wait to see what Bodhi does, pushing through the crowd towards the doors.

”Dude, if you don’t go after her I might just do it.” I hear Garrick say from behind me, a muffled ow sounding from behind me that sounds awfully like Garrick as I step through the doors.

I know Bodhi has followed me when I don’t hear the door close behind me, the sound of rushed feet fast approaching me. I barely turn around before his hands grasp my hips, spinning me around as he lifts me up, pinning me to the wall.

My breath catches as my back meets the cold surface, the contrast sharp against the heat radiating from his body. His grip is firm, commanding, but his touch isn’t rough—it’s deliberate.

“Do you ever stop running circles around me?” Bodhi’s voice is low, gravelly, and it sends a shiver down my spine. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and unreadable, and I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“I wasn’t running,” I manage to say, my voice breathless, betraying me. “You’re just slow.”

His lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile, but there’s something softer beneath it, something that makes my pulse race even faster. “Oh, is that how it is?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against my hip, just barely enough to be noticed. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been in my head since the moment you walked across that Parapet.

I don’t know if it’s the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing he can see—or the fact that I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, strong and steady despite the chaos between us. All I know is that my walls, the ones I’ve spent years perfecting, feel like they’re crumbling under the weight of this moment.

“You’re in mine too,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. They hang in the air between us, daring him to make the next move.

His smile fades, replaced by something deeper, more intense. “Say that again,” he whispers, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

I swallow hard, my hands gripping his shoulders for balance—or maybe just to ground myself. “You’re in my head too, Bodhi. And it’s... infuriating.”

He exhales a soft laugh, his lips brushing against my temple as if testing the boundaries. “Good. At least we’re even.”

Before I can respond, he leans in, closing the gap between us, his lips hovering over mine. He hesitates for the briefest moment, his eyes searching mine for permission. And when I don’t pull away—when I tilt my head ever so slightly toward him—it’s all the confirmation he needs.

The kiss is bold, unapologetic, and all-consuming. It’s everything I don’t associate with the Bodhi I’ve come to know. The kind and caring Bodhi everyone sees. It’s not careful or slow—it’s fire and fury, a culmination of every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every moment we’ve danced around this. My hands slide up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if proximity could quench the heat building between us. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse.

When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, he doesn’t let go. His hands stay firmly on my hips, his forehead pressed to mine, his lips ghosting over the corner of my mouth like he’s not ready to let the moment end.

“You drive me insane,” he says softly, his voice rough but laced with a hint of amusement.

“Good,” I reply, a small, breathless smile tugging at my lips. “At least we agree on that."

[ryssabrin]

i feel like people who don’t like solas or solavellan have such a warped perspective of what the romance is and how fans of it actually engage in it. like i’ve seen a lot of (most likely het dudes lol) on reddit say they tried it to see what the fuss was but felt it was “demeaning” and i’ve seen it described as literally a horror story where solas is manipulating and using and lying to a young impressionable lavellan who gives up her entire identity for him and becomes a complete doormat to all the awful shit he does. that’s never been my experience and i kinda just want to ramble about how i see it and what i find romantic about it?

so full disclosure, if veilguard had come out a few years ago with how they portrayed lavellan and solavellan i might have been pretty disappointed. i think there is a subset of the solavellan fanbase that likes the wolf/halla or student/professor thing and they play their lavellan younger and agreeing almost without question to everything solas says. i see the appeal but i never played my lavellan that way and i really like the dynamic of it when lavellan actually goes against his advice at times. solas is a character that needs to have his preconceived biases questioned. especially in inquisition when he’s still coming to terms with the fact that the modern people of thedas are in fact people lol. so i was concerned at the prospect of my lavellan being taken out of my hands and having to listen to her make excuses for him and submit to everything he says. (which tbf i don’t think is how she actually comes across in dav, but that was a worry.)

however when i replayed my canon dai run this year, i realized i was closer to the age i always saw my lavellan as (early 30s), and as my lavellan is probably the bioware pc i’ve always played closest to my own personality, i took the opportunity to tweak her a bit and make some different choices. i’ve (hopefully lol) matured and grown a lot since i was 24 and so rather than going for the snarky sarcastic cool girl vibes i opted to play her with more diplomatic and caring choices. it made me see the solas romance in a completely new light. rather than some sort of student/professor dynamic or a pride and prejudice-esque rivals-to-lovers vibe where lavellan is fighting for his respect the whole time, what stuck out to me was how much their connection builds simply because lavellan is kind to solas. she hears him out when he wants to give his opinions and advice, she respects his expertise on the fade and spirits, and she offers him comfort and friendship when she sees he needs it. she impresses him because he finds himself wanting to indulge in her closeness. he finds a connection to someone he never expected to and it makes him rethink everything about the broken state he put the world in.

it’s worth noting that lavellan is always making the first move. she kisses him first, she pursues him. he tries to brush off the kiss as a spontaneous lapse in judgement and she doesn't let him. he only ever gives in to her advances, he doesn't make them himself. he calls their relationship "selfish" on his end. he knows he shouldn't be encouraging her but he can't help but long for her companionship. that being said though if lavellan shuts it down he respects it. he probably feels a little relief because the temptation is now out of his hands lol.

i feel like there’s also this perception that he’s constantly shitting on the dalish while lavellan just has to put up with it and that alone is reason enough to find the relationship demeaning. he mentions the dalish in one optional conversation chain where you ask him for his opinion on the state of the elves and then in the balcony scene where he realizes he’s misjudged the inquisitor after his personal quest. in both instances, lavellan can stick up for the dalish. in the optional conversation, lavellan can say that if solas had a bad experience with a clan once (which we know from dav is exactly what happened lol), that she’d like to correct that misunderstanding about her people.

it's worth noting as well that lavellan doesn't know solas is the dread wolf when he's criticizing the dalish. from her perspective, he's essentially a city-born elf who had some dalish look down their nose at him for not being a "true elf" like they are, something that not only happens in canon throughout the games and lavellan would be aware of, but literally happens to solas specifically, right in front of you. he doesn't say a single word to mihris and she doesn't know a thing about him other than his face is bare and thus feels comfortable referring to him with what is essentially a slur. but rather than confront her directly about it he just passive aggressively speaks to her in elven almost exclusively for the rest of the quest lol.

far from the dynamic being that lavellan is just putting up with someone talking down to her about her culture, i think it's reasonable to see her view is more that they're both members of the same marginalized group, but from different cultures. his position in criticizing the dalish is not punching down it's lateral. she loves her culture, but is able to recognize it has flaws and not every member in it treats other cultures well, particularly even when they're from the same marginalized group. (and it's also just really meaningful that the first "flirt" option you get in the solas romance is lavellan recognizing that solas has put himself in a very vulnerable position as an elven apostate joining the chantry-led inquisition and with whatever power she has she will make sure that it's not held against him.)

i do think the writing conveys that he does have his mind changed about the dalish at least a little bit, but one of his pet peeves is when people are ignorant and refuse any information that challenges their worldview. as a manifested wisdom spirit, it is a particular sticking point to him to not be listened to when he is providing knowledge. i think criticism of how he is towards the dalish is lacking without taking into account his nature as a spirit. obvs we didn’t know that in dai but we do now. when wisdom isn't listened to it turns to pride. "i told you so," "i'll prove i'm right," "you should have listened to me," etc. etc. he got his feelings hurt when the dalish didn't believe him (and according to dav, literally tried to kill him) and his ego's held a grudge ever since.

when it comes to the vallaslin, to me it’s less about solas wanting to dismantle part of dalish culture (he offers no actual opinion on the dalish during that scene) and more that it clearly bothers him a lot that he fought so hard to free the elves from slavery and the one community of elves that’s closest to the descendants of the people he wanted to free still wears tattoos honoring the very tyrants he wanted to free them from. if lavellan says she wants to keep them and that the dalish reclaimed them and they mean something else to her, he doesn’t argue. i actually don’t like that solas’s post breakup banter with cole implies that lavellan thinks he might have broken up with her over the vallaslin. it’s putting thoughts in the head of my character that i personally don’t see her having. the way the breakup plays out, there’s not a single indication that it has anything to do with the vallaslin. i like to pick the “i believe in us” option because it shows lavellan having some idea that there’s something solas isn’t telling her and that’s the main reason he’s walking away. and the irony of course is that we learn in dav that that was the moment he came the closest to just giving up everything to just be with her.

so when i played through dav with my solasmance lavellan and she talks about what drew her to him it all just felt so right. he was kind and wise and sad but he made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered to him. (and that was very almost true!) there was a passion and intensity to their relationship that made her think he was the person she wanted to be with forever. when she says "i thought i would have followed anywhere he asked me to" you could read it as her saying she would have joined him in tearing down the veil if he asked and depending on your lavellan that might be true (though in the next bit she talks about how she would have been trying to change his mind anyways). but you could also read it as what her mindset was while she was with him during dai. before joining the inquisition, she knew him to be someone that traveled the world looking for lost secrets and history. why would she not have wanted to join him in that? is that not something you do when you're in love with someone?

something else that i find really compelling about solavellan is how solas relates to the inquisitor (not just lavellan) as a figurehead stripped of their personal identity. he knows from personal experience exactly what that's like. in the romances (not just solas's), the inquisitor is able to find someone that knows and cares for them for who they are, not what they represent. this aspect of the inquisitor's arc is honestly why i like keeping the vallaslin. my lavellan wants people to be able to look at her as the inquisitor and see a dalish elf. it's one small act of defiance and in reclaiming her own narrative. so thinking about what she might want to do after her responsibilities to the inquisition are over, it's reasonable to think she might want to just go wherever solas goes? because she loves him and feels like herself around him. even her asking him to let her come with him in trespasser feels more motivated by the fact that lavellan sees solas isolating himself and closing himself off and she's sad about it because she cares about him. that was why she wanted to grow close to him in the first place.

and i genuinely don't think it's all that wild that lavellan still holds a torch for solas 10 years later. i personally was friends with this guy in high school i always had a crush on, and towards the end of senior year it looked like it could actually end up turning into something. but then he immediately left for a summer abroad after graduation and eventually moved out of the country full time for school. we kept in touch off and on and caught up when he was in town, but nothing romantic ever happened. for years after i would catch myself thinking every so often what could have been and what he was up to. for solavellan, they were actually together. they had mutually expressed feelings and though their time together was maybe a few months at most, it was intense and passionate. they split up not because anyone's feelings changed, but because of solas's baggage. it's really not unrealistic for lavellan to continue wondering to herself what would have happened if he had been honest with her sooner. if she could have convinced him to change course. and it's not like she has the luxury of retiring and just not thinking about him anymore. that's not a conscious manipulation on solas's part to string her along, that's just the reality of their situation.

and even with all that in mind, in dav lavellan is still able to have the self-awareness to understand that the good in him that she believes exists and all that they had together and what she meant to him could all just be wishful thinking on her part. that she's giving him the benefit of the doubt "imagining his broken heart" when he doesn't deserve it because it makes her feel less foolish. she's not blindly faithful to him. i just loved everything about that scene and every word out of my lavellan's mouth felt spot on and perfect for how i saw their relationship. i could not have been more relieved lol.

as for the ending, i really really dislike the bad faith read that the only thing that matters is mythal and that he somehow loves mythal more and if that weren't true then lavellan alone would be able to convince him to stop. varric says about solas that he wants to be a hero, but it's easier for him to play the villain because it means he didn't fail, everything bad he's done is a choice. once you've done one bad thing, betrayed one friend, manipulated and sacrificed some pawns, committed one lil genocide, etc. lmao, it becomes easier to do it again. you've already crossed your moral event horizon and now you just have to find an end that justifies the means of all your misdeeds. what i've said about solas before is that what's frustrating is that he does genuinely feel remorse about the shit he does, but he needs to believe it's necessary and he will keep doing it. he needs to believe it will all be worth it in the end. it's not that he thinks feeling sorry makes up for it necessarily, but that he had to do it. he had to be the one taking on all of the bad things to hopefully one day do a good thing and it will all work out.

(as a side note when solas says "i would not have you see what i become" in trespasser i always thought that meant he was going to resort to some awful corruptive magic or something but it turns out what he actually meant was "i'm about to be a real asshole and do some incredibly awful things and i don't want you to see that side of me" which is much sadder.)

so when rook says "you don't have to do this" solas counters with "i've betrayed and fucked over and killed so many people who trusted me and if i stop i will have done that for nothing." so then the inquisitor jumps in with "as one of those people, i'm telling you that you can stop." but then we get to the heart of it. he thinks he failed mythal when she died the first time and was unwilling to listen to her as flemeth. he needs to make that mean something. he needs to justify to himself what mythal made him into. so he needs to hear from his mythal, not morrigan's mythal who has the benefit of the wisdom and hindsight centuries of living among mortals gave her, but his mythal, the one closest to who she was when she died that what he is is broken. that she's the one that broke him and he alone doesn't have to bear the weight of everything he did because of her. it's not about loving her, it's about the specific relationship he had with her. with that baggage unpacked, he's not only able to let go of his prideful need to prove himself right by tearing down the veil, he's also free to choose what he always really wanted: lavellan.

and still! yet again! he does not ask or assume anything on her part. she offers! of her own free will. something that really rustles my jimmies about a lot of solavellan criticism is that people act like lavellan has no agency. that she couldn't possibly make the choices she does of her own accord and it has to be solas manipulating her. that has never rang true to me at all. she always made the first move. i think this more uncharitable read might unfortunately be encouraged by how many actual solavellan shippers play into the wolf/halla thing but i personally don't think that's the dynamic that weekes actually wrote. it is lavellan that pursues solas, not the other way around. and weekes was honestly so careful in how they wrote the romance so that when solas's identity and plans are revealed, it doesn't feel like he intentionally tricked you or took advantage. i actually really like the ambiguity of whether or not they slept together because to me it does feel like that's a line solas wouldn't cross, but i get why that doesn't matter as much to other solasmancers.

i also think there's this perception that solavellan is a ship with an unhealthy power dynamic that needs to be "fixed" in some way or at the very least apologized for before you're allowed to like it. for me it's honestly kind of the appeal? not that there's some goofy dom/sub thing going on lol but that in spite of how "superior" solas may or may not feel to lavellan and the modern elves, he still falls hook line and fucking sinker for her. lavellan has so much more power in the relationship than she realizes. she changes his entire perspective on modern elves and his ultimate goals so bad he had a complete crisis of faith and had to run as far away from her as he could. how could he have broken the world so badly he needs to catastrophically break it again to fix it if it could create someone like her? someone he wants and cares for so desperately? it's the push and pull of him trying to stay away but selfishly indulging as long as he can that's so juicy to me! it's so good and i just wish other people could see that, even if they don't care for the character.

anyways. i don't have a conclusion. i don't want anyone to think i'm vaguing about them. this is honestly the result of some thoughts that have been brewing for a while and a lot of common criticisms i've seen over the years. i didn't want to respond directly to anyone in particular bc i learned my lesson about not doing that waaay back in the shenko fandom iykyk lol. i just really like the ship! i think it's tragic and romantic and lovely and poetic and mythological and all that good stuff. it humanizes solas as a character and makes me think about empathy and compassion and how much faith you can have in someone if you love them. or how it might feel to sacrifice love for something you think you need to do, only to ultimately realize you never did and find that love patiently waiting for you to get your shit together. or to love someone and know they love you back and that they love you so much they had to leave or they would have given up everything they thought they needed for you and then to be able to actually get through to them and get them back. "she could save him if he'd only just let her"! it's a very niche wish fulfillment fantasy and it's me! i'm the fan being serviced!

[rimqueen]

sweetpea… please write jimmy leaving his girlfriend to overdose at curly’s place like you said 😭

tw for overdose, cocaine, drug use, shitty bf jimmy, blood, death and shitty writing

“Hiii, Curly.” You’re clutching onto his doorframe, blinking at him rapidly, one of your false lashes is MIA.

Jimmy is close behind, smiling too hard for it to actually be Jimmy. Jesus. It’s a little scary. Like he’s wearing someone else’s face, the skin stretched thinly over his bones is looking worn. He shoulders past Curly and makes himself comfortable on the couch he has called home so many times.

“Woah, okay—Hey, hey, Jim.” Curly catches you when you stumble, clammy hands on his chest to steady yourself. “What’s all this about?” He’s too old for this. Too old to think Jimmy is cool for snorting crack off public bathroom counters, too old to be anything but worried.

“Nothin’, man.” Jimmy waves a dismissive hand his way. “She just overdid it, your place is closer than mine.”

You blink up at Curly with a dopey smile as he sets you down beside your boyfriend. “You’re sooo nice, Curly,” you slur, tucking your legs beneath you, it takes a few attempts but you make it there. “Just the best, like, so nice, you know any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Good ol’ reliable Curly. Got a big ol’ shoulder to lean on. Big ass back to stab. Curly who cannot keep him at arms length.

So he sits down like a dumbass and chaperones the two of you as Jimmy, loyalty card in hand, cuts up another few lines on the coffee table. Curly opts out, mumbling about blocked sinuses and a short nasal passage. He takes a dollar bill from your purse and rolls it up, dexterous fingers that only get put to use for one thing in particular. Jimmy snorts it, tips his head back, thumbing the edge of his nose, his smile crooked and lazy when he passes the bill over to you.

You do the same.

Snort it, tip your head back, sniffle, wipe your nose.

Your head doesn’t fall back into place. You stay like that for one second, two seconds, three seconds, four, five—

Foam dribbles down your chin, and your body jerks backwards until you are sprawled on the floor lifelessly like a discarded mannequin.

“Holy shit.” Curly jumps to his feet, floundering, breathing just as hard as you are trying to breathe. “Holy shit, Jim. Holy shit, she’s fucking—Jesus Christ.”

“Fuck, shut up, Curly, I know, I know—I’ve got this,” says Jimmy, who has not got this, who has not got fucking anything at all, like, ever. So why would he have this? “C’mon, baby.” He smacks you hard, somehow managing to look unfazed and completely unhinged. “Don’t die on me, I’ll fucking kill you, you… Fucking shit, shit, shit.”

There is so much blood seeping into Curly’s new shag rug. He is going to pass it off as wine when his mother visits. You’re twisting and choking and kicking your legs, putting up a nasty fight and nobody has bothered to call a fucking ambulance, nobody wants to deal with the fucking consequences. There is a girl overdosing in his lounge and Jimmy is going to go back to jail and—

“Where are you going?” Curly asks, horrified as you fit on the ground while your boyfriend pulls on his jacket. “Jim, where are you going, are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t—“ Jimmy motions with his hand at you, at himself. “I can’t fucking go back there, man, shit, not for this, not for her.”

You’re not worth it, not worth hospital bills and phone calls and court dates.

So they let it happen.

Jimmy helps you ride it out, kissing your face and cupping your tit like it is going to do anything at all.

And when you go cold, he rolls you up in Curly’s shag rug to keep you warm, it’s a two-man job, lifting all this dead weight, but Jimmy does it all on his own while Curly sits there jittering.

“There’s a creek nearby,” Curly tells him, white-knuckling the arm of the sofa.

“How about that job you were talking about?” Jimmy murmurs soberly.

[ghostgirl-22]

OBSESSED with your stupid cockslut art!! Needy little baby too stupid to think about anything other than getting wrecked by his teammates…. The first time it happens…. They’re changing after training and the new kid - some handsome clearly gay guy - is flirting with art, leaning over him, putting his hands on arts chest, on his waist and Patrick’s being his typical jealous about it until he realises arts brain has completely turned off and he’s spacey and giggly and blushing and Patrick is immediately hard and like. Needs to explore this immediately actually. Drags art away and back to their room and arts so different to normal and Patrick just can’t help himself he has to fuck art immediately because as if he’d miss out on the chance to have him like this????

Ah yes…yes… I hear you anon…<3

So like Im taking it as the first time Patrick realizes that Art goes brainless or something like that (idk enjoy lol)

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It takes a little while for him to notice, if Patrick’s being honest. He’s not really paying attention at first. He’s joking with a couple of his teammates about how predictable one of their regular opponents serve is. They’re all laughing and out of the corner of his eye is when he sees it.

The new kid, Craig Reynolds, is also the only openly gay kid on the team. He’s this tall, handsome, conventionally attractive athlete from a rich family. That’s pretty much why he gets away with it, integrating seamlessly while taking little if any flack from his teammates.

He’s talking to Art, talking up close, the way Patrick might. Barely giving him any personal space. Art’s leaning with his back up against the lockers, half dressed, smiling at him. Letting him touch, letting him grip at his arm, at his waist.

“God, Craig wants to fuck him so bad,” One of Patrick’s buddies mutters when he notices Patrick staring.

“Put him in make up and a dress and I’d wanna fuck him too,” another teammate snorts and they both laugh.

Patrick feels his stomach do a somersault and he’s suddenly burning up with irritation. Of course Craig is into Art, it makes perfect sense. Art is the pretty boy blonde on the team with the perfect ass. What’s bothering him is the way Art is mirroring his attraction.

It’s the way Art’s leaning back, letting himself be played with. Eyes wide, posture submissive. Smiling the way girls do when someone really attractive is giving them attention. When Craig leans in to play with his hair and Art starts wetting his lips is when Patrick decides to interrupt.

He gets first dibs. He gets last dibs. He gets everything in between. “Hey so you wanna go?” He asks Art.

“Patrick, Craig said he can help me with my backhand,” Art says, he’s chewing bubble gum, always has something in his mouth. And Jesus Christ up close it’s even worse. Patrick can see his eyes are dilated and his cheeks are pinkening. If he had longer hair he’d be twirling it for him.

“Oh yeah?” Patrick glares at Craig.

Craig glances at Patrick, eyes filled with amusement before his gaze returns to Art. “I mean, whenever. If you want to come play with me Donaldson, you know where I live.” His eyes fall over Art’s body, his desire so fucking obvious.

“Okay but promise you won’t go easy on me?” Art says, softly. Flirting. It’s so silly and irritating. Patrick’s one step from grabbing him and dragging him away.

“Don’t worry, you’re strong,” Craig rubs Art’s bare chest, “I know you can take it.”

Art’s grinning now, like it’s funny. It’s so not funny.

“Can you go get dressed?” Patrick demands. “I want to get food before the cafeteria closes.”

Art blinks, “Oh yeah… um…” he stumbles forwards running into the bench and he bends over to rub his shin as Craig laughs.

“Careful pretty boy.”

“Shuddup,” Art says, playful. “Um… wait… where’s my bag?”

Patrick narrows his eyes, “where it always is?” He says, incredulous when Art looks around helpless. “Other side of the room. Under the bench,” He points. “Near your locker.”

“Oh yeah,” Art grins.

“I think your roommate likes boys,” Craig’s sing song voice sounds teasingly in Patrick’s ear as they watch Art make his way over to his bag. “But of course you already know that… you’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows, turning around to face him. “Did he—”

”He didn’t say anything but it takes one to know one. Everyone talks about you guys like you’re one entity and then of course you show up all jealous,” Craig smirks, bending over his bag on the bench. Patrick rolls his eyes.

Impressively, Art hasn’t even made it five feet without being distracted by another boy.

“This is his right?” Craig hands Patrick a razor phone that definitely belongs to Art.

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Fuck.”

“Be careful with that, someone might steal it away from you.” Craig pats his arm. Patrick shrugs him off and follows Art to the other side of the locker room.

He’s no more dressed than he was a minute ago. Instead he’s like a little space cadet, straddling the bench and bouncing his thigh while the guys Patrick was chatting with earlier are teasing him about Craig.

“Do you have any more gum, Donaldson?” One of them asks, sitting across from him while idly rubbing Art’s thigh. It’s their teammate Tyler Fitzgerald, who everyone just calls Fitz. Art smirks and blows a bubble which Fitz pops with his finger.

“Someone gave it to me.” Art says, soft. Pretty little grin on his face as he licks all the gum back into his mouth. Someone’s always giving him something.

“I like how you blow bubbles. You wanna blow something else?” Fitz smirks, still rubbing Art’s thigh. “I don’t think Craigs is bigger than mine.”

Art leans back on his hands, still chewing, skin flushed. “You’re so gross,” he says, but he scoots his body closer and sticks his gum coated tongue out.

“Art,” Patrick sighs. Fitz glances up at him at the same time Art does, pulling his hands away from Art’s thighs and getting to his feet with a not so subtle wink in Art’s direction.

“Patrick I’m— I’m coming,” Art says. He reaches for his bag and then sits up straight patting his pockets. “Wait I can’t find my—my—”

Patrick pulls the silver razor phone out of his own pocket and hands it to Art. ”Oh wow. I- where did you—?”

”Don’t worry about it, come on,” Patrick interrupts. He’s anxious and not for food. He thinks he’s starting to understand what’s happening.

Art is so shy when girls flirt with him, but he’s absolutely ditzy when he’s taking Patrick’s cock. Maybe with Craig flirting and Fitz flirting, maybe just the thought of getting fucked has him in that same drunken silly state. Unable to focus on anything but the idea of getting filled. And suddenly Patrick’s jeans feel so much tighter.

“Come on,” Patrick holds out his hand and Art chews a little longer before he spits the gum out, gazing up at Patrick, lips parted, eyes dilated, pink tongue tracing the surface of his white teeth. Patrick thinks about fucking him right here… taking him in the bathroom stall just to get it out of his system. Everyone probably already fucking knows by now. Art reaches for Patrick’s zipper and Patrick barely stops him, stepping back to go throw the gum away. “Get dressed,” he says.

Craig smirks at him from across the locker room.

Art just barely manages to get his clothes on. Patrick has to help him collect his gear. He’s all over the place. A little bit of boy flirting and he’s a fucking mess. Teasing the whole time, desperate for Patrick’s attention… for his…

He barely gets Art home. They’re kissing in the elevator. Art is dizzy, grabbing at him. Climbing all over Patrick as soon as they get onto the bed. Hes such a fucking cock slut he’s moaning before Patrick even gets inside, he’s moaning just for the promise of it. Falls apart all over it. Doesn’t recover till they’re sweaty and breathless, covered in lube, spit and semen.

And then Art’s back to normal. It’s fascinating. The way he comes back down to earth with little or no recollection of the way he was acting in the locker room. They clean up and go to dinner and it’s Patrick’s turn to fall apart. Tripping over himself to open doors for him, pulling him closer where they sit in the cafeteria. Patrick’s practically on top of him, consuming all his time, his attention, all the food he wants but can’t finish. Art’s not even eating his dessert, just licking the icing off. Patrick’s asking him what he remembers still trying to understand this particular tick.

Art denies flirting, says he was just talking to Craig, says he would never cheat and or let another boy fuck him. “I mean, unless…” he shrugs licking the frosting off his spoon. “Unless you wanted me too.” He bites down on the spoon and gazes at Patrick.

Patrick stares back at him, he can’t help but to smirk. “Yeah, okay.” He says but his mind is screaming because whatever the fuck this is… he knows he wants it. It’s only a matter of time before Art gets hit on by another boy and Patrick decides he’ll just have to be there so he can do more research.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Red Chrysanthemums and Fennel for Sebek and Malleus!

Malleus Draconia:

🌻fennel: what are their kisses like? where do they like to be kissed the most?

Malleus enjoyed forehead kisses. When you took his face in your hands, pulling him down to your level to press your lips against his head, he felt special. He especially liked when you lingered, smiling against his skin and brushing your nose against his as you released him.

Malleus wanted to savor you. His kisses are always full of purpose, exchanged when you’re finally alone and able to indulge each other. He wants to memorize the way your lips feel, how they move along his, listening to each breath you take and sharp inhales as the intensity increases. He can be just as much of a tease even without meaning to, wanting to trace his fingers along your lips or jaw before giving in to his desires as you were a work of art to be admired before he fully lost himself to you.

🌻red chrysanthemums: how long does it take for them to say ‘i love you’?

A love confession was not something that should come with a time limit, and in Malleus’ mind, it didn’t. From the day you first met there had been a connection, the thread of fate looping you tightly together to the point Malleus couldn’t deny your importance even if he tried. While it took many years for the relationship to finally blossom into romance, Malleus considered you being ‘together’ since you became friends, stating with confidence that his heart had always known what you were to him. He said your souls were connected far before he ever stated ‘I love you’ directly, but you think that line had more than solidified his feelings on you.

Sebek Zigvolt:

🌻fennel: what are their kisses like? where do they like to be kissed the most?

Sebek’s kisses are surprisingly intense for how shy he can be when it comes to physical affection. He’s the definition of locked in when you’re alone together, having learned things went best when he gave you his full attention (and knowing Silver was with Malleus, he had considerably less to worry about). He wanted to be as present with you as he could since it was a rarity to get actual extended alone time together, and he made sure you would feel appreciated during every second of it.

Sebek’s ears are a weak spot, mostly due to insecurity, so you like to remind him every once in awhile that you love every part of him. It’s always a surprise, lips gently grazing the lobe of his ear, so quick it would’ve looked like you were kissing his cheek to anyone looking in. It made him flustered even years later, knowing you did it when he was feeling frustrated or unsure of himself.

🌻red chrysanthemums: how long does it take for them to say ‘i love you’?

Sebek had a difficult enough time admitting he had a crush on you, then took even longer to finally ask you on a date, so you’ll be waiting a year or so to finally hear him say those three little words. It’s almost effortless for him to show his love and dedication through his actions, scolding you when you don’t get enough sleep or eat right, taking on your responsibilities on top of his own if he sees you’re struggling, there are many ways that Sebek never has you questioning how he feels even though he doesn’t say it.