#since the age gap was bigger between all of them than it is in the show

[navree]

Do you think Alicent might have had a loss between Aemond and Daeron? It's just a bit weird that there would be such a big age gap between them , especially during a time in which Viserys would have become increasingly weaker

First things first, I'm operating on the "four year age gap between Aemond and Daeron" due to the fact that this is the gap in the book and because the showrunners literally forgot about Daeron until, like, halfway through the show airing, they've yet to confirm if that's true or not, so season 2 could come out and prove that I'm dead fucking wrong.

Second things second, it might be a possibility. All the other kids appear to have a two year age gap, given that Aemond's meant to be around ten years old in episodes 6/7, Aegon's thirteen, and Helaena is eleven, and then there's apparently a sudden four year gap between. We know that Viserys likely didn't become as infirm as we see him in episode 6 in the blink of an eye, but episode 5 does mark a turning point in his health. Given that Viserys seems to continue his trend of constantly wanting his wives pregnant, it's entirely possible that there was a pregnancy between Aemond and Daeron that either resulted in miscarriage, stillbirth, or death soon after birth. It'd make sense that it wouldn't be talked about, since there'd be no opportunity for it in the show and I don't even know how it could be brought up in a way that wouldn't make it sound like the clunkiest exposition imaginable.

Though at the same time, it might fall under the category of "what purpose does this serve" if they're not going to delve into Alicent's life as queen consort anymore than they already have, so they might just chalk the age gap up to Viserys having a bit of a bounce back in his health before deteriorating further. I also know there's speculation that That Scene from ep 4 is Aemond's conception (I wanna hurl), so Daeron would likely be the only kid to be born after Viserys's health takes its downturn, and while I don't know literally anything about male fertility, the age gap can be contributed to Viserys's health giving him performance difficulties and things of the like, especially when taking into account the fact that it takes nearly a year between conception and birth and that the body does need time to recover afterwards.

I think it'd be an interesting look into Alicent's psyche if she did have some kind of loss between Aemond and Daeron, especially in helping explain why she's so protective of her children, and why she apparently got Daeron sent to live with his Hightower relatives, which would be a less dangerous option than staying at court with a half-sister that Alicent considers a danger to her children (plus she'd have more power to do so given how long she's been queen and Viserys's health issues). It would also add another layer to how she handles Aemond's maiming, though I'm of the opinion that her reaction was entirely rational considering what happened and that she in fact held her cool way better than I ever would have.

[chlmtsdoll]

SHOPPING WITH ART

౨ৎ Summary: it’s in the title ! Ballerina!reader x Art on a shopping date 🤍

౨ৎ Word count: 2k

౨ৎ Warnings: sugar baby! reader, mentions & talk of sex (duh !), semi public sexual acts, age gap (reader early 20’s) dilf age Art, fluff, needy reader, horny Art, mentions of Tashi in between, mutual pinning, petite!reader (sorry tall ppl), reader and Art are all over each other constantly

A/N: don’t know if I should classify this as a blurb or a fic but I’m gonna go with blurb since it’s short and sweet !!

“Dogs ?”

You had scrunched up your nose and shook your head terribly at Arts attempts to guess your favorite animal. He tilted his head as he looked down at you with a grin.

“Cats ?” He probed. You nodded pleased, with a giggle.

“Do I strike you as a dog person at all ?”

“No.” Art had laughed out and it sounded of wealth and pure adoration of you.

You two had been walking down Rodeo Drive in the mist of perfect weather on a bright day, Art had offered to take you shopping while Tashi took care of tennis business for the two of you. She requested some space and quietness for an hour or two — so of course you’d never pass up your expectation of basically trying on dresses for Art Donaldson as a living.

It still hadn’t hit you on the full one-eighty your life has taken from going from a lost ballerina to Art and Tashi’s young, beautiful, tennis protégé.

Or shared girlfriend. Whatever you had been.

You loved it. Especially days like this, you’d spend as much time as you could with Art when he wasn’t touring because he made you feel like it had only been the two of you on earth when you were together. You never stopped laughing, blushing, kissing… and a spawn of other things.

But when he’d been actually playing tennis, or doing things for his career like press or photoshoots. You missed him dearly. Even when he’d spend time with his daughter Lily.

It made your mood dim, and you’d find yourself dissociating from conversations or tennis to think about him or ponder when he’d be back to steal you away again. Tashi always caught you in the drift of it, but you’d snap right back to reality when you’d hear her say. “Okay. Art’s gonna take you out.” Your mood and demeanor would shift entirely.

“I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Isn’t that movie controversial ?” Art questioned.

“Aren’t you much older than me ?” You replied as you glanced up at him, giving him every glitter of your wide Bambi eyes. He chucked.

“Oh. So should I walk on the other side of the sidewalk.. if that’s too much for you ?” He looked down at you as he moved from where you walked to the other side of the not so spacious side walk to prove his sarcasm.

“No!” You pleaded with a girlish laugh as you followed him anyways, bumping your shoulder into his arm on purpose not to be separated for another second.

You’d want to hold his hand so badly when you two would be out together, but with his public image being Tashi Duncan’s star husband, it wasn’t exactly the best decision when it came to the press — so even with as much as he wanted to, Tashi always told him to lay low when it came to physical contact with you in the open. Especially somewhere as public as Beverly Hills.

You’d never known where paparazzi had been hiding, lurking and waiting. And it wouldn’t be so easy for them to try and idealize it as Art Donaldson and his exceptionally younger “friend” that he takes shopping and on dates.

Tashi couldn’t control when you had been at home and essentially couldn’t keep your hands off each other entirely. Always hugging, cuddling, fucking. It didn’t matter. You were on him or vise versa, but when you’d go out Tashi would specifically insist “don’t touch each other.” before you’d leave.

But hiding didn’t transpire to you so much when you just completely couldn’t help yourself when it came to the man that made your heart flutter, you’d fought the limitations anyways.

Walking side by side you brushed your pinky against Arts much bigger hand. You saw him look down and a soft grin took upon his lips at the sight of your manicured pink tips grabbing at his hand. He could never resist you. locking pinky’s with yours, your smile had turned bashful but pleased as you’d walk together. Just praying no paps had caught the moment and you’d have to go through Tashi’s wrath later on.

♡

It was dress after dress you’d pick off of the rack, skirts, tops, and more shoes than you’d ever seen at once in person. But you absolutely adored this. Trying not to make another painfully high pitched sound when you’d find another pair that made your eyes go wide in awe.

Art was right there behind you as he chuckled at all of your darling reactions, finding it utterly too cute. You were like a doll and he’d spoil you till you’d probably pass out from exhaustion the moment you both got home from all the perks of shopping till you dropped. Literally.

“I don’t know. I love the waistline, but a deep v neck ? I just don’t see it.” You stepped out of the dressing rooms to where Art had been lounging on a chair since he wasn’t allowed in the actual dressing room area.

Art couldn’t say he didn’t know a thing or two when it came to a sense in fashion. Tennis was a sport based around the most expensive and luxury brands displaying their most fashionable and articulately put together pieces on star athletes like himself. But mainly living with the total of four ladies including the maid, had done his knowledge of the craft wonders.

“I think you look amazing in it, baby.” He implied, crystal blues tracing your perfect body cinched into the tight dress.

It made your breast sit in such a way that Art had to adjust the way he sat in his seat. You looked at yourself in the mirror while your hand ran down your curves. Your heels made you stand taller and your legs showcased eloquently.

One of the workers brought you a glass of champagne and you thanked her kindly before taking a sip, then turning to Art with a suggestive unsure look on your face.

“But do I look amazing though ?” You asked puzzled, with mostly sarcasm and art had shook his head, he chuckled as you glided back into the dressing rooms.

He even brought you things to try on as he just couldn’t pull back from his own suggestions of what he thought you looked to die for in.

“Art,” You turned to him opening up the curtain of the small space as you’d been in the mist of changing, just in your bra and panties.

“Put this on.” He passed you a dress and you were taken back by his desperation and need to see you in his choice of clothing. You stood and took it from him, but you couldn’t deny the slight pass of dominance from him turned you on a bit. You smiled at the curtain when he closed it quickly to leave so he wouldn’t get caught.

When you came out in what he had gave you, Art unfolded his leg and sat straighter in his chair as he examined the sight. And was it a sight to see.

The dress was white, a sixties kind of cut as it made your waist look otherworldly. The corset top made your torso extend and it was short enough that if you moved a little too much it would have been quite a show.

“So, what do you think of your outfit choice on me, Mr. Donaldson ?” You asked with your hands on your hips and the look on his face as his eyes graced over you had you blushing terribly.

Art had to take in a breath with an embarrassing place being lost for words, he stood up to walk towards you. His hand touched the delicate straps.

“Turn around.” he instructed.

“Okay. Bossy.” You joked, meanwhile he bit his lip to hold back nearly letting out an audible noise as he took in the way it cupped your ass just right. You were perfection in his eyes, all dolled up just for him. He licked his lips,

“You’re gorgeous, angel. Do you like it ? Because I love it, and I think you need it in your wardrobe. Well, not need, but it would be a nice touch.” He went on and you laughed at his high regard, your face heating up quite quickly now.

“I think it’s really pretty.” Your hand ran across the top that was embroidered with jewels, your smile enchanting as Art watched you.“next one coming up.”

You had walked by to go change again, but as you did you felt a smack on your ass and you turned around quickly to see Art grinning to himself when you gasped.

The responsible side of you would of protested as you remembered Tashi’s words, but you were anything but responsible when it came to your favorite blonde. You shook your head as your sly smile matched his and you went back into your dressing room.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that long before Art had snuck in again and opened up the curtain, this time inserting himself into the room with you.

“Art!” You could hardly stop him before he had moved your hair out of the way and started attacking your neck with kisses, sucking in your sent as hands ran over your body,

“Fuck, you look good.” He breathed out as he kissed you and you’d fallen weak to his trap. Hands running to grab his hair as he groped your tits through the dress and kissed you sloppily. He towered over your dainty figure as he treated your body like clay for him to mold, you let out a whine from the back of your throat as he ran his tongue over yours.

His hands were flighting to unzip your dress while hiking it up your hips at the same time.

“Careful, it’s not mine,” you breathed out as Art peppered kisses anywhere he could.

“Oh, it will be yours. I’m buying it as soon as I’m done with you.” his tone was low and full of arousal as he pushed your front against the wall of the dressing room.

As much as you wanted him to fuck you right there, feel every inch of his need to have you take his cock while he treated you to an entire wardrobe that any girl your age would die for, was enough to make you shed your panties right then. But you had slipped from under his grasp.

“We can’t, we’re in public.” You uttered and Art had backed away from you with a groan as he ran his hands down his face and you grinned at the state you had gotten him in, uncomfortably hard and dick nearly ready to come through his fly at just the sight of you.

“Fine,” he sighed out and got ahold of himself before leaving again, you tried not to give him a mischievous smirk as you adjusted yourself and the dress. “Don’t think I don’t know how much you want it, you little minx, be ready for later because we’re not done here.”

You batted your eyelashes and acted all innocent as he shut the curtain and then you giggled to yourself. You had all the shoes and dresses you wanted ready by the time you exited again, and now with lips shimmering with gloss, you made eye contact with Art as he paid for all your new attire with pleasure. Licking his own lips every time he scanned over you, he carried all of your bags and he walked out with you happily.

Completely forgetting about the paparazzi, Art took your hand in his with ease. leading you down the walkway and you had bitten your lip under a satisfied little smile.

A/N: ugh ! I need that !

[fantasylandloser]

Not Flirting

Pairing; Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You and Rafe want each other so bad.

Warnings: smut, mdni, Public sex, smoking, shotgunning, two uses of slut and one use of good girl, Rafe calling the reader kiddo in flirty way

******

You’re not flirting with Rafe Cameron. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself anyway. The casual touches, and the constant bickering that presents like foreplay is how the two of you have always been. Right?

The two of you don’t even talk outside of when you’re with your mutual friends. That’s probably why you seem so focused on each other. And the only reason the air around you is so charged with sexual tension is because- well he’s Rafe. He could have chemistry with a doorknob. It is not flirting. 

You’ve told nearly every person that’s been in contact with you something similar to those words that you’ve been trying to convince yourself of. Nobody believes you, sadly you’re not even stupid enough to believe it. That doesn’t stop you from trying though.

It helps you feel less guilty about wanting his attention, and having it. He’s a known fuck boy on the island and you’ve been sort of friends since high school, but after graduating your friend group got smaller and it was hard to ignore him. 

You tried to sometimes, but it never worked. The pull the two of you had on each other was too damn magnetic. Like at this party you were at. He’d found you accidentally, laughing with some people, your bikini practically melded with your skin after a dip in the water. 

You don’t see him when he walks behind you, but the way the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you know it’s him. So, you don’t panic when his arms wrap around your shoulders, or when he takes your cup and drinks out of it, even though he knows you hate that. 

“Hey, kid.” You roll your eyes at the nickname he’d given you when he found out about the one year age gap between the two of you. You hate yourself a little for the smile you feel making its way onto your face. 

“Don’t start.” Rafe doesn’t acknowledge that, or the people that were around you because he starts pulling you away from them. “Where are you taking me?” You wish you could sound like you actually cared but you’d go with him regardless. 

“We’re smoking.” He whispers, his breath fanning the outside of his ear. 

You twist your lips in apprehension and Rafe must have a sixth sense for you at this point because he eases your mind immediately. 

“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s more your speed than mine.” Again, you roll your eyes. You don’t stop him from walking you towards wherever he’s going though. 

“I don’t even-” 

“I know, I know. “ Rafe groans. You reach back to flick him for interrupting you and he finally lets go of you since you’re walking with him willingly. “Just trust me.” You miss his body heat the second that it’s gone but you’re going to blame it on being cold, even though it’s ninety degrees out. 

You mock him childishly, to ignore the heat that crawls through your body when you look at him. You remember him saying something about cutting his hair off, and then you teasing him and saying it would look bad. You just thought his long hair added to his cuteness. You were very wrong. 

“Oh you did it.” He lets you run your hand over his buzzed head, while you walk beside him. 

“Mhm.” He smirks and you already know what’s coming. “Is it as bad as you thought it would be?” But he knows it isn’t because you are not subtle in checking him out and his ego is bigger than the sun. 

“It’s somehow worse.”You taunt only to be met with a tug on your hair. It’s childish and violently in character for Rafe. He smiles at the squeak you let out and laughs when you push him back. 

“Yeah, whatever you like it.” Your conversation is cut short when your presence is noticed by your other friends.

“Where have you been all night?” Kelce asks from the hammock he’s lying in. 

“Up your butt.” You answer obnoxiously, skipping over to your friend Natalie’s lap and giving her a hug. You could tell she was a little high on something you didn’t want. 

“I think that is the last place you’d wanna be.” Topper says, patting your head and you can tell he’s been drinking by the way he slurs. 

The conversation between you and your friends is mindless while Rafe rolls the blunt on the patio table. You tried not to stare at his fingers as he did so. Or look at him too hard as he licked the paper. You failed. 

You try not to think too much of it when he’s finally done and he beckons you over, or when he pulls you in his lap, like that's normal. Once again, you fail. It takes you all over two seconds to get comfortable once he wraps his arm around you though and you’re used to ignoring your friends' looks by now. 

You’re a little nervous once he lights it but he brings it to his lips first and you really want your lips to be on that blunt all of a sudden. When he hands it to you, you try to mimic what he had done but you can tell you did it wrong immediately. 

“Inhale, kid.” You try again, you kind of feel it this time. 

“Lemme see.” He takes it from you and inhales the smoke, which you’re pretty sure is like illegal when it comes to rotation, but you don’t say so. You’re a little surprised when he grips your jaw firm and gentle, before blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Inhale”  You do so, trying your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

 “Good girl.” He says finally releasing your jaw. You choke on the smoke in your lungs as he passes off the joint. Rubbing his hand on your back, immediately reminding you how naked you are in just your bikini. 

“I hate you.” You say once you’ve finally gathered yourself, but it holds no weight as you lean back into him. 

*****

You’re horny. That’s all you can think about by the time your friends and you stop smoking. Everyone had dispersed by now and it was just you and Rafe with you still sitting sideways across his lap. 

“I can feel you.” You squint eyeing your position.

“It would be concerning if you couldn’t.” You're well aware that your skin was touching his. He shakes his head, propping his hand right to the pulse in between your legs that was only covered by the thin layer of your bikini bottoms. 

“You’re fucking throbbing.” Your words are caught in your throat at the sensation of him rubbing you. Intensified by your high and how long you’ve been wanting him.

“Someone is gonna see.” You finally get out, trying to shift your legs. 

‘Good for them.” When he grabs your jaw this time, it’s to kiss you and you immediately forget whatever it was that you were worried about. He lets you shift around until you’re straddling him, kissing him back with equal fervor. 

“So you do like my hair.” He says panting once, you finally give him room to breathe. 

“What hair?” You softly scrape your nails down the nape of his neck. He sniggers, when you begin grinding against him. And he’s a little shocked when you pull his hard dick out his shorts. 

“And what’re you gonna do with that?”

“Sit on it.” Rafe moans, he’s not sure if it’s at your words or the hickey you’re currently sucking into his neck. Possessive. He finds himself noting. “Unless you don’t want me to.” You add, and he almost laughs at the fact that you’re giving him an out. 

“I do.” You’re so excited to fuck him you forget how much of a stretch he would be. But it’s too late to care once you start, you brutally force yourself to take half, ignoring your own pained whimpers at the sound of Rafe gasping into your neck. 

Despite himself, Rafe grabs your ass so that you can’t go any further. “Eager little slut.” 

“You started it.” You accuse after catching your breath. “You’re the slut.” Your voice is whiny, which is unlike you and Rafe can’t help but wonder if that’s a result of you being out of your mind horny or high.

“You’re the one that’s making a mess all over the both of us.” He says gesturing to the slick skin in between the both of you. While he’s talking you continue to take him deeper, nipping at the skin on his neck. He stops you again from taking more of him.

“Too much for you, kiddo.” You push past his hand in an act of rebellion, your ass meeting the top of his thighs. The stinging pain only makes you regret that action a little, but the look in his eye makes it worth it. 

‘Fuck” He lets you continue to bounce on him for a minute, but once you start to finally find your rhythm he starts bucking his hips back into yours. He’s pleased when you can no longer hold back your moans.

“Rafe!” And he knows that warning anywhere, especially mixed in with the way you clench around him. 

“Yeah? You like that?” Your answer to him is nearly gibberish as your body begins to convulse. And initially Rafe had every intention of pulling out, but the thought washes from his memory at the feeling of you. He groans as he finishes inside you, not utterly appalled by the idea of getting you pregnant. 

Once you catch your breath, you laugh a little to yourself. “I guess I like your haircut.”

[wolverigrl]

Rumors

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Warnings: smut! Only 18+!, swearing, angsty, fluffy

!Disclaimer! If you'd like to skip the smut, scroll down as soon as you see "---" in the text. From there, the smut part begins and ends at the next "---"!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It's been five months. Five months since our first date, and yet somehow, it feels like both forever and no time at all.

I sit here now, in the gym, watching him lift weights like it’s nothing, and I’m struck by just how lucky I feel. From the very beginning, it was like we found our rhythm without even trying - our relationship is built on mutual respect and trust. We give each other space when needed, and t's refreshing to be with someone who values independence as much as I do.

The dates we've had so far have been perfect in their own way. Our second one was at this hidden gem of a restaurant tucked away in the city. I remember how he laughed when I spilled wine on the tablecloth, and how his hand brushed mine as we reached for the same napkin. We've done simple things too, like grabbing coffee early in the morning or working out. Once, we spent an afternoon at an old bookstore, getting lost in the aisles of dusty novels and sharing passages that made us laugh. Every moment with him feels like a memory in the making

And yet, it all changed a little last month when we were spotted. We hadn't been careful enough. A quick kiss in a park, something so innocent, but the paparazzi caught us. The next day, our picture was splashed across every tabloid and social media. That unintentional confirmation of our relationship wasn't what we had planned. Neither of us wanted the world in on our private lives.

Still, we've dodged every question thrown at us in interviews or on social media. But avoiding the questions doesn't stop the criticism.

The age gap. It's what everyone seems to latch onto. Hugh's used to it - He’s been doing this long enough to know how to handle the press, the rumors, the gossip. But me? I’m still learning how to deal with it. I try to act like it doesn't bother me. I nod along, tell everyone I'm fine, but inside, it's harder than I thought it would be. Some of the comments sting more than I care to admit. I've been in relationships before, but none of them were "public" like this. My exes were all from my private circle - well, except for Chris, but that doesn't count. That was way before either of us was well-known. This, with Hugh, is different. It's out there.

I didn’t want that. I wanted to keep us private for a while longer, to hold onto this little piece of normalcy for just us. But now it’s out, and there’s no taking it back.

Now everything is under scrutiny. People question our relationship and my motives. Of course there are fans who are supportive - sweet comments, even some who come up to me on the street and say they love us together. But then there are the others. The ones who say I’m only with him to advance my career, that I’m using him to get ahead. Ever since our last movie together, I’ve been getting bigger roles, and some people think that’s because of him. Like I can’t earn anything on my own.

I try to brush it off, but there are moments when those words hit hard. And even though Hugh has told me a thousand times to ignore it. I’m not like him. I haven’t been in the spotlight for decades. I don’t have the thick skin he’s developed over the years.

Our managers weren’t thrilled either when they found out we’d been seeing each other behind their backs. It wasn’t anger, really, more disappointment that we hadn’t trusted them enough to let them in on it. But in a way, I’m glad we didn’t. We needed this to just to be ours for a while.

Still, despite all the noise, the criticism, the rumors—there’s comfort between us. We act like a real couple. We’ve never had the talk, though, about what we are exactly. Are we officially together? I don’t even know. We’ve just kind of fallen into this routine, and honestly, love it. I love the way he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world when we’re together.

My eyes drift back to him as he lowers the weights, his muscles tensing with the effort. He's ridiculously strong, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a turn on. God, he’s attractive. And sweet. And patient. And funny. Sometimes I catch myself even fangirling. I mean, it's still Hugh fucking Jackman. How did I get so lucky?

“You good, y/n?" Hugh’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Yeah." I say, quickly covering up my awkwardness with a grin. “Just appreciating the view.”

His eyes narrow, that playful smile tugging at his lips. He walks over, sweat still glistening on his skin, and towers above me, crossing his arms. “You know, you could’ve just taken a picture.”

“Maybe I will next time,” I tease, leaning back on the bench.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich. “Or you could just join me instead of sitting over there like a creep.”

“Please. I did twice as many reps as you did earlier,” I say, pretending to wipe imaginary sweat from my brow. “I deserve a break.”

“Is that right?” He raises an eyebrow, leaning down so we’re almost face-to-face. “Pretty sure I saw you struggling with those squats.”

“I wasn’t struggling." I protest, trying to keep a straight face, but his cocky grin is making it impossible.

“You say that now, but your form—”

“My form was perfect!” I laugh, pushing his arm lightly. “Stop acting like you weren’t impressed.”

“Oh, I was impressed." he admits, his voice dropping an octave. “Just not with your workout.”

The heat between us flares up in an instant, the way it always does when he looks at me like that. There’s this pull, this magnetic energy that I haven’t felt in a while. We flirt, we tease, we push each other’s buttons, and it’s exhilarating. But there’s always this line we haven’t fully crossed yet. We get close - so close - but we always pull back.

We go back and forth like this until we wrap up our workout. Hugh's leaving for Sydney tomorrow to visit his family for a few weeks, but his kids won't be able to join him because they're going on holiday with their mom, so it'll just be him this time

I'll admit, I already miss him so much. I don't really know what to do yet. So far, we've spent pretty much every day together, but now that the interviews are slowly getting fewer and everyday life is getting quieter, it's getting boring without someone to keep me on my toes. I guess Ryan and Blake will have to take over.

After the gym, we head back to his place, still bickering about who did better with which exercises. By the time we're on the couch, it's turned into playful shoving and teasing until his lips are on mine, and everything else fades away. God, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the way his lips feel on mine, the way his touch sets my skin on fire.

But just as things are about to cross that line again, I pull away, leaving him breathless and staring at me in confusion.

"You’re impossible." he mutters, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

I smile sweetly, standing up and stretching. “I need a shower.”

"You’re an absolutely evil woman!" he calls after me as I walk toward the bathroom, but I don’t turn around. I can feel his eyes on me the whole way.

I can't help but smile to myself as I undress and step into the shower. The hot water cascades down my skin, but my mind is elsewhere - back on the couch, replaying the way his hands felt on me, the way his breath hitched when I kissed him. It's getting harder to hold back, to not give in to the growing desire between us. We've come close before - so many times - but for some reason, we always stop right pefore things get too far. It's like we're both waiting for the perfect moment. I'm not in a rush, but God, he makes it so hard to resist.

But it’s not just physical. It’s him. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he makes me feel seen. I’ve never been so comfortable with someone, and that scares me a little. I’m falling for him - hard - and I’m terrified of what that means. We’ve never even talked about what we are, and here I am, thinking about how much I want him, how much I love him.

The thought stops me in my tracks. Am I in love with him? My heart pounds in my chest, and I realize that, yes, I probably am. But I don’t know if he feels the same way. What if this is just something casual for him? What if I bring it up, and he doesn’t feel the same? He’s never pressured me, never pushed for more, and sometimes I wonder if he’s happy with how things are - just casual, just fun.

When I'm done, I slip into my pajamas - just a simple tank top and shorts - and head into the bedroom. Hugh's sitting on the edge of the bed, scroling through his phone, but he glances up when I walk in.

"Took you long enough." he says with a mischievous grin. "Were you thinking about me in there?"

I smirk, leaning against the doorway.

"Maybe?"

He laughs, setting his phone down and standing up. He walks over to me, placing one hand on my hip, the other cupping my face. His lips brush mine in a teasing kiss, his hand sliding down to give my ass a playful squeeze.

"Behave." I mutter, but my voice betrays me, sounding more breathless than I intended.

"Why? I thought you like it when I don’t." he says, that teasing grin never faltering.

Before I can respond, he pulls away and heads to the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

I sighed and lay down on the bed and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

Before I can lose myself in my thoughts again, I hear the water turn off, and a minute later, Hugh steps back into the room, still dripping wet and wrapped only in his towel, which hangs dangerously low. I can't take my eyes off him. He's searching through the dresser, muttering something about forgetting his boxers, but I don't hear the words. My heart pounds in my chest, and I know - I know - this is it. I can’t hold back anymore.

Without second guessing, I get up and cross the room, moving toward him without a word. He watches me, his brow furrowing in slight confusion, but there’s something else there too.

When I reach him, I stop, just inches away, and look up at him. I don’t say anything for a long moment. I just let myself feel the weight of this moment.

---

Finally, I find my voice, though it’s softer than I expected. “I want you.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, I think I’ve surprised him. But then, something shifts in his expression, and the air between us thickens. He steps closer, his hand coming up to cup my cheek as he studies my face.

“Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and I can see the restraint in his eyes. He’s giving me an out. One last chance to change my mind. But I don’t want out. Not anymore.

“Yes." I whisper, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat. “I’m sure.”

That’s all it takes. In an instant, his lips are on mine, and the kiss is different this time - deeper. Hungrier. His hands move to my waist, pulling me against him, and I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into his touch.

Before I know it, he’s lifting me off the ground, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the roughness of the towel against my skin. His grip tightens, and I’m suddenly aware of just how much I want him - how much I’ve always wanted him.

The kiss grew more intense, more desperate, and I can feel the last remnants of our restraint crumbling. He carries me over to the bed, his towel loosening around his hips, and gently lays me down. Our breaths are ragged, our bodies pressed together in a way that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

His kisses moved to my neck while one of his hands disappeared under my top. I gasped softly and ran my hands over his strong back. He began to gently squeeze my breast as I pressed his hips against mine with my legs, clearly feeling his arousal. Breathing heavily, he rubbed his groin against me and applied more pressure to my breast.

"Please." I said softly and looked at him greedily. "Please what, love?" he broke away from my lips and straightened up a little to get a better look at my face.

I couldn't help myself and looked down to his towel, which was now hanging down so low that you could see his perfect v-line clearly, as well as the vein under his belly button.

I swallowed and also straightened up to pull my top over my head.

"Fucking hell." he muttered quietly. I lay back down with my arms over my head and looked straight at him. "Just stop holding back and fuck me already."

He didn't need to be told twice and leaned over me again. The kiss was wilder than before and I felt like his hands were everywhere. I was in such a trance that I didn't even notice that he had already thrown my shorts on the floor. It was only when I felt his fingers on my clit that I realized it. I gasped out loud and dug my fingers in his hair and shoulders as he caressed my neck and circled his thumb over my clit. I was a complete wreck. Everything happened so quickly, but somehow it also didn't. I pressed my knees into Hugh's sides and pushed my pelvis towards him as he slid two fingers inside me. I moaned loudly and pushed my head back into the pillow. Suddenly I felt an electrifying sensation as he ran his tongue around my breast and sucked on it. He curled his fingers in and moved his hand faster. I moaned loudly again and pressed my nails firmly into his shoulder as a pleasurable feeling came over me in my abdomen.

Hugh's kisses moved back up to my lips until he released his heavy breath and slid his fingers out of me.

He looked at me full of lust and totally befuddled. I had never seen him like this before. But seeing him like this almost made me go crazy myself. He smiled gently at me and stroked a few strands of hair from my face. "You're so damn beautiful."

I felt my face flush and ran my hands down his torso to his dick, smiling. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes as I slowly began to stroke him.

I clenched around nothing and bit my lip as I looked at him.

He looked at me again, bent both my legs and pulled my hands away, to stroke his own member. He rubbed his pre-cum wet tip against my clit and looked deep into my eyes. It made me absolutely feral.

"Hell. Stop fucking teasing!" I growled. Without another word, he slid into me and put my legs over his shoulders. I moaned loudly and curled my toes. He was breathing heavily and you could see how much he was controlling himself.

"You're so fucking tight." He slowly began to move his hips and it drove me wild when I felt him filling me up. "Baby please don't hold back." I moaned and closed my eyes.

"Eyes on me my love." he groaned and thrusted harder. I gasped, a little startled, and looked him straight in the eyes. My hands disappeared into his hair again and his speed increased steadily. I felt everything slowly boiling up inside me and I clenched hard around his dick. That eye contact. His moans. The sounds of our bodies hitting each other and the thick air in the room. Everything began to spin around me and I could no longer maintain eye contact.

"I'm gonna cum!" I moaned as I felt him thrusting even deeper than before. Hugh now closed his own eyes, let my legs off his shoulders and pressed both my hands over my head with one hand to stimulate my clit with the other. He was panting loudly himself. "Cum for me baby. I wanna see how you cum all over me."

That gave me the rest and for a brief moment I thought I was seeing the white light. My legs were shaking like crazy and I felt an incredible pull in my abdomen. Hugh moaned with me and let go of me to support himself with his forearms next to my head instead.

Panting, he rested his head in the crook of my neck while I stroked his sweaty back. Shortly afterwards, I felt his rhythm become more and more irregular until he did a last hard thrust and moaned loudly. The sound of his voice and the feeling of his pulsing dick made my skin crawl and I pressed myself tightly against him with my legs and arms.

There was complete silence for a moment. I could only hear our panting and our heartbeats in the room.

I felt his semen leaking out of me and slowly running down my bottom.

Hugh pulled away to lay down next to me and pulled me to his side before kissing me on the forehead. I smiled at him and stroked his sweaty chest with my hand.

"We should probably have done it before the shower." Hugh said with a smirk and looked at me.

"Or in the shower." He laughed and nodded.

---

After cleaning up, we lay together, our bodies entwined under the blanket. The room is quiet, except for the sound of our breathing slowly returning to normal. Hugh is beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on my skin. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back, and there’s a comfort in the silence between us.

But there’s also a weight, a need to say something. To define this.

I shift slightly, turning so I can face him. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. Then, softly, I ask. "Do you ever… worry? About what people say about us?”

His brow furrows slightly, and he brushes a strand of hair from my face before answering. “What people say? You mean the age thing?”

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. “Yeah. And the way they watch us. The paparazzi, the rumors… It’s just hard sometimes.”

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand gently cupping the back of my head. “I know it’s hard, y/n and I’m sorry you have to deal with all that because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” I say quickly. “I just… sometimes I don’t know how to handle it. But I don't want to be that person who lets the outside world affect what we have." I whisper. "But sometimes it just... gets to me."

"You're not that person." he assures me, his voice firm but gentle. "You're human. And it's okay to feel that way. The important thing is that we talk about it, like we're doing now.. And you don’t have to handle it alone." he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “I’m here. We’re in this together.”

His words are soothing, but there’s still a part of me that struggles with the reality of our situation. I bite my lip, hesitating before speaking again. “Sometimes I wonder… if maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Hey." he interrupts softly, his thumb grazing my cheek. “Don’t go there. We’re good, okay? We’re more than good.”

I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just don’t want it to get too complicated.”

Hugh is silent for a moment, then he asks quietly. “Would it help if we made it official?”

I blink, my heart skipping a beat. “Official?”

He gives me a small smile, his eyes soft as he looks at me. “Yeah. Maybe then they will stop harassing us with their questions." For a moment we both were silent before he started to speak again. "Like… would you want to be my girlfriend?”

My heart swells at the simplicity of his question and made me speechless. Then I slowly nod, a smile spreading across my face. “Yeah." I whisper. “I’d like that.”

He grins, pulling me closer and pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss. We stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other, content.

After a while, he pulls back, looking thoughtful. “You know, I’m heading to Australia tomorrow to visit family.”

I nod, already knowing. “Yeah, you mentioned that. How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks." he says, his fingers brushing over my arm absently. “But… I was thinking. What if you came with me?”

I blink in surprise. “To Sydney?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought it’d be nice… spending some more time together. Away from all this.”

I hesitate, the idea both exciting and terrifying. “I don’t know, Hugh. It feels… fast. I haven’t even met your family yet.”

He chuckles softly. “You wouldn’t have to. Not unless you wanted to. It can just be the two of us. We can do whatever you want. I just want to spend time with you."

I smile softly at his words, feeling my heart swell.

“I’ll think about it,” I say softly, leaning my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, a calming rhythm that soothes the anxiety swirling in my mind.

“Good,” he murmurs, running his fingers gently through my hair. “That’s all I ask. No pressure.”

I bite my lip, thinking it over. The idea is tempting - really tempting.

"Okay." I say, making the decision. "I'II come. But maybe I'll fly out a week later. That way I can maybe meet up with Blake and Ryan, maybe even visit Chris in Boston."

Hugh nods, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Deal. A week later, and we'll have the best time. Just you and me."

We share another soft kiss, and can't help but laugh against his lips.

After our conversation, we lay there for a little while longer, basking in the afterglow of everything we’d just shared. The weight that had been pressing on my chest for weeks felt lighter now that we’d talked about it.

Eventually, we sat up, and the idea struck me - if we were really ready to move forward, maybe it was time to let the world know about us on our own terms.

“I was thinking…” I start, glancing over at him. “We should post a photo of us."

Hugh’s eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. “You sure about that?”

I nod, feeling a sense of resolve I hadn’t felt before. “Yeah. I mean the media already knows about us and we can't hide anymore. So why not?"

A smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. “Alright, I’m in. Let’s take a picture then.”

I chuckle. “But maybe we should put on some clothes first?”

Hugh laughs softly, the sound sending a warmth through me. “Yeah, I suppose we shouldn’t scandalize the internet too much.”

As I sit up, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the bedroom mirror and grimace slightly. My hair’s a mess from… well, everything, and I’m definitely not looking my best. “Ugh. I look awful.”

Hugh stands up and shakes his head with an amused smile. “You look perfect,” he says, casually reaching into his closet for a shirt. He pulls one on, his muscles stretching the fabric in a way that makes it hard for me to focus. “Come on, we’ll take a cute one.”

I roll my eyes playfully but grab one of his T-shirts from the drawer. “Fine, but if I look weird, we’re deleting it.”

“No way!” he teases, pulling me into his arms once I have the shirt on. “You could never look weird.”

I can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around me from behind. He holds the phone up in front of us, angling it to get the perfect shot. “Okay, smile!”

I glance up at him just as he snaps the picture. My smile turns into a laugh, the joy bubbling out of me before I can stop it. I look ridiculous, but when I see the photo, it’s kind of perfect. Hugh’s grinning at the camera, looking all charming and effortlessly handsome as always, while I’m gazing up at him, clearly laughing and obviously so in love.

I bite my lip, hesitating. “I don’t know… I look a little -"

“You look great." Hugh cuts in, his tone firm but soft. “Come on, y/n. This is us. It’s real.”

I glance at the picture again. He’s right. It’s not some polished, perfect photo shoot - it's just us. Happy, in love, and completely ourselves. I sigh, giving in. “Okay, fine. Let’s post it.”

He beams at me, clearly pleased, and starts typing a caption on his phone. I lean over his shoulder to read it:

>>thehughjackman: Caught laughing at all the rumors... guess they weren't all wrong🤫 #couplegoals<<

I laugh, rolling my eyes playfully "#CoupleGoals? Really?"

"You're right." he says, smirking as he backspaces. "How about.. #HughJackedY/n?"

I swat him laughing, and he finally posts it without any hashtag.

I take my smartphone and also post it with another caption:

>>y/ninstagram: Who knew Wolverine was such a softie?❤️🐺<<

And just like that, it’s out there. The world now knows officially. My heart pounds a little faster as the notifications start rolling in almost instantly. I feel a rush of nervous excitement—what will people say?

We sit there, watching as the comments flood in, one after another.

>>vancityreynolds: Took you long enough!<<

>>blakelively:This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Love you both!<<

>>ChrisEvans: Treat her right or Cap's coming for you!💪🏻<<

>>zendaya: Omg, stop! You guys are ADORABLE<<

>>officialladydeadpoolmovie: Deadpool approves of this union. Carry on.<<

I glance at Hugh as the comments keep pouring in, feeling a strange mixture of warmth and relief. There’s so much love here—so many people supporting us. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

“I told you it’d be fine,” Hugh says, his voice soft. He nudges me gently with his shoulder. “And look, everyone’s happy for us.”

I smile at him, feeling lighter than I have in days. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

More comments continue to roll in, some from fans, some from friends:

>>florencepugh: I KNEW IT!!!<<

But it’s the fan comments that really make me smile:

>>lordyx3z: Omg, I knew they were together! This makes me so happy!🥹😩<<

>>serenax77: Remember when y/n literally said 'fuck me' during an interview? Manifesting at its finest😂😂😭<<

>>hugh4ewa: Hugh, blink twice if y/n's forcing you to post couple pics😂<<

>>y/nno1fan: About damn time! Y'all had me waiting like the post credits scene of a Marvel Movie!<<

>>mynameseve: I need somebody to look at me, like y/n looks at Hugh😭❤️<<

>>girlpoolxpoppins: Can somebody pls check on Ryan? ASAP<<

>>boyinyellwspndx: y/n: "fck me!" - Hugh: "Say less". Dreams come true folks<<

I can’t help but grin at the flood of positivity. Sure, I know there will be some haters - there always are - but for now, it feels like we’re surrounded by love and support, and that’s all that matters. I glance at Hugh again, my heart swelling as he scrolls through the comments, laughing at some of the more playful ones.

“This was a good idea.” I say quietly, resting my head on his shoulder.

He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Of course it was.” he murmurs. “Now everyone knows you’re officially mine.”

I laugh softly, my heart feeling full. “And you’re mine.”

We sit there for a while, reading through the comments and enjoying the moment. It feels like a weight has been lifted, like we’re finally free to be ourselves without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And honestly? It feels perfect.

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

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01

Next part

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Concentrate

summary: You've been engrossed in work lately and Price decides to take it into his own hands to make you relax.

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine universe)

tags/tw: afab!reader, mention of canon related injury, NSFW, mdni 18+ please and thank you, p in v, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, d/s themes, captain!kink, implied age-gap

a/n: god, it's been too long since I've updated this series, but considrings it's summer now, I actually have may aims set on finishing it<3

Sunshine universe MASTERLIST & John Price MASTERLIST

Despite the blue-light glasses dimming your already yellowed screen, your laptop's light strains your eyes.

They sting as you blink, tears occasionally wetting your lash line. You don't want to continue working, the whole day has had you glued to the screen. But, you'd signed a contract with a bigger firm, and the first checkpoint in that partnership was scheduled to be presented in two weeks.

Despite so much time left, it felt like you were already behind.

You sighed, your forehead finding solace between your arms as you rested it against the bed. You felt the mattress shift beneath you, not too surprised you caught the attention of the bed's other occupant, who had been engrossed in his book for the better part of an hour.

"Not time to let it rest for tonight?" You sighed again, catching the sound of an open book being placed down.

"I know I should, but there's still so much left undone." You turn to face John, your head finding a temporary respite on your shoulder, relieving some of the tension in your neck. 

Compared to you, he lies on his back, one hand resting along the book's spine, his index and middle finger hooked between the pages. His brows are drawn together, and the creases between them are more visible than otherwise. 

"Mhm, know it is, but you've done quite some work for the last half an hour." Right, this isn't the first time he's asked if it's time to put aside work for tonight. The knowing look John sends you makes you break away from his gaze. 

You know he is right. But, as soon as you stare at the unwelcomingly bright screen again, the unpleasant tingle in your nerves of work left half-done and the heaps of it left to finish forces your fingers to flex before settling on the keyboard again.

"And yet I've come nowhere", you mutter. The clicking of keys ceases when John's hand enters your vision, and a heavy paw is placed upon one of yours to halt your typing. Your eyes flick to him, noticing how he's

discarded the book and rolled onto his side, watching you with raised brows and sincere eyes. 

"Wrap it up, love. You've done enough for tonight." His voice is steady, and his gaze is heavy. 

Letting out a breath of combined compliance and relief, you nod. "Alright, let me just wrap these few sentences up so I'll know where I should pick up tomorrow".

"Good choice." John catches your chuckle with a kiss as he leans close to peck your lips before standing from the bed. "I'll be in the shower when you're done," he says, withdrawing to the en suite.

You follow him as he departs, leaving the invite dangling in the empty space he leaves you alone in. The water from the shower reaches you as a soft pour through the door, making it even harder to turn back to face the screen. It's light stabbing your sore eyes just a bit more viciously.

And you do plan to join him sooner rather than later. Yet the concluding sentence seems impossible to wrap up, going on forever as you attempt to put down all the thoughts on the screen for your well-rested self to probably frown at tomorrow morning.

The sound of the shower fades to a white noise as you simply can't take the step and cut yourself off, close the screen, and join John in a warm shower your sore body and exhausted mind needs.

***

Price waits for you. He didn't anticipate you to come running after him before the door shut, but he did expect you to join him soon after he stepped beneath the shower-head. But he sighs heavily when he's stood beneath the stream of water for long enough that he's finished washing and even stretched the time if you would join him in a minute. 

Turning off the shower, Price steps out to dry off. He'd looked forward to spending some time with you, no less seeing you relax for the first time since after breakfast. That project you're working on has taken much of your time the last few days, rendering you basically motionless in front of your laptop if it wasn't to eat or take a minuscule pause.

Despite knowing it was he who was on med-leave and not you, Price still felt that the days on which he had no paperwork to fill his time while you worked dragged on particularly slowly. And with his shoulder barely impairing him from any movement, sitting about the whole day made his leg bounce from restlessness.

Neither did he want to disturb you too much, noticing how you noted his presence each time he passed within your view with a flick of your eyes before they fell to your laptop again. 

While never saying anything, Price, in return, noticed how you often slowed your pace momentarily after he'd passed you, often with a swift kiss. Likewise, if he stayed in your vicinity, your attention strayed towards him more than once.

He tried to keep clear so as not to impair your workflow. But your workplace is much more fluid than his, and you often placed yourself in areas he passed through when moving through... practically anywhere in the house.

With the tally he kept, you favoured the couch in the living room downstairs and the bed later in the evenings.

Dropping the towel from his head, Price looked at his reflection before it fell to the side. Some little part in his chest hoped to see you suddenly appear behind him, but the door remained as shut as a few minutes prior. 

Price wasn't surprised to find you right where he left you once he exited the bathroom with the towel tied around his hips.

He called your name, but you barely moved. You remained on your stomach, propped on your elbows, occasionally scrolling on the computer before you. He catches you mumbling a 'mhm, soon done' much later than his call for you and only shakes his head, the response more autogenerated than anything else.

Even from this angle, Price notices how the light from the screen illuminates your tired features. When he moves around the bed and towards your side, he catches your furrowed brows.

You're so engrossed in your work and whatever is going on inside that head of yours you don't notice when he steps up beside you. Instead, your head falls to your hands, your thumbs pressing into the roots of your eyebrows.

A low groan escapes you, stirring something in the pit of his stomach. 

You'd been out like a light the last two nights, barely able to put away your computer and mosey your way for your skin-care routine before falling asleep. He'd caught you standing with your eyes closed as you massaged your products into your skin, only to offer him that sweet, tired smile once they fluttered open.

To say he hadn't been aching to touch you more than fleetingly the past three days was an understatement. But the day you announced you'd gotten the deal for this collaboration, you also said in your ecstatic state how you needed to work. So he'd let you, settling for the warmth of your body against his right before sleep took you both, and the day started in the mornings.

Price knew your jobs were different, awfully so. However, he recognised you were in that initial bubble of concentration that was hard to break out of, and you could bring in the rest of the world again.

While Price didn't blame you for working while you stayed here. After all, he'd thumbed on his non-working practice while on medical leave. He found that you had difficulty relaxing; your shoulders pulled tighter each day, your remote work smudging the line between work and home. Even now, you hadn't stopped massaging the pressure points in your face, the blue-light glasses discarded to make it easier.

He wanted to see you wind down, not only for tonight but also to allow yourself to not overwork so early on in this project. Take it from him about knowing that planning and prepping could only take you so far. Yet Price knew you wouldn't take that step yourself. He'd waited to see if you would since yesterday when the exhaustion of your mental workload slowly started to make itself noticeable.

Maybe that's why he found himself suddenly resting a knee on the bed beside your hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he pushed himself over your laying form until he kneeled on either side of you. Or so he told himself, dismissing how he slowly felt himself grow hard standing there, watching your form resting prone on the bed, craving to hold your body.

***

The mattress shifts and a sudden weight settles atop your thighs. You start from whatever brain fog has momentarily overtaken you. 

You smell John's shower gel, the slight dampness of what must be a towel separating your naked legs from his as he sits behind you.

Fuck, right, you were supposed to join him.

You attempt to glance over your shoulder to apologise but only catch a glimpse of John, towel around his waist and hair still wet from his shower, before a hand lands on your neck and directs your face forward. The firm grip makes you feel a bit like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff, yet John's voice makes another feeling come to life.

"Just concentrate on your work, love." His voice is smooth and gravelly deep, but he doesn't let up on your neck, forcing you to continue facing your screen with the blinking marker not far from your face. 

"What-"

"And let me take care of you", he continues, disregarding you completely. 

You're about to ask him again what he's doing, but upon the fingers resting on either side of your neck pressing, your words escape as a rushed exhale. His thumb and index finger repeatedly knead the base of your skull, making your eyes fall shut. 

Yeah, you could need a massage. That's also how you interpret John's action, as his hand slides with equal pressure further along your spine. The pressure is firm, but oh, it is needed on the sore muscles along your back that you let out a shaky breath when some of the tension is relieved. 

However, your shaky breaths turn into a sharp inhale once one of his hands that has been kneading the worst of the tension points in your back slips down your spine, not stopping at your last vertebrate but continuing over the globe of your ass.

One calloused hand turns to two, both grabbing at you from behind, groping your cheeks in each palm, squeezing until flesh spills between fingers and an appreciative noise sounds from the man doing so. And then, he pulls you apart just a little, the oversized shirt of his that you're wearing riding up until you practically can feel his eyes on your scantily covered core.

"John-" His name is cut off by a sharp inhale as one of his hands slides between your legs, and he runs his thumb the length of your thong-covered pussy from behind. In the aftermath of your involuntary jerk, his other hand settles heavily on your hip, pressing you down into the bed with the help of his weight pinning you.

"Hush, don't mind me." His voice is remarkably even despite gently rubbing up and down your cunt like he is currently doing.

"Hard not to mind you." You let out a soft moan, clenching around nothing but the phantom feel of his thumb against your entrance as he presses just a tad bit more.

"You wanted to work, love, don't let me stop you". It's sweet, even considerate, the way he says it. Contrasting so deviously the way he's petting you with repeated motions of his thumb.

Your mouth opens and closes, your eyes fluttering in an attempt to stay open and watch the keyboard and screen you're meant to type on. However, the computer you only minutes before couldn't tear your attention from remains untouched. 

Your fingers hover, and your chest heaves as your total concentration falls on John. 

Hyper-vigilance overtakes your body as you follow every tiny thing the man pinning you against the bed does. John keeps the pace of his fingers the same, the prodding remaining frustratingly consistent. You try to wriggle your hips, but the hand on your waist only tightens its hold as he clicks his tongue. A simple but effective warning.

You fall still, letting him touch you at the pace he wants despite your breaths now turning to soft whimpers. 

A flush rushes through your body when John shuffles. You feel him rise onto his knees for a second, and then the fingers playing with your pussy leave your body, only for the sensation of fabric to sweep over your legs and be thrown to the side.

Once he retakes his position, it's his naked thighs that connect with yours. But the stuttering breath escapes when you catch a low groan spilling into the air.

Your head whips around, catching John admiring you with lidded eyes, hand fisted and stroking his rapidly swelling cock to full hardness.

Mouth salivating, your lip catches between your teeth upon the scene. You can't help the way your thighs clench together when your pussy flutters. John notices, eyes trailing upwards until his gaze locks with yours. He tsks the moment they do, stopping his fisting of himself as if to depreve you of the hot scene.

"Thought you wanted to work, eh?" He leans forward, shifting his hand to rest by your shoulder instead of your hip. It lets you arch against his hardened cock when it falls against your backside. John grunts, jaws tightening as his free hand curls around your head, gripping your jaw to force you to look at him by craning your head backwards. "Now, don't let me fuckin' this pretty pussy of yours distract you." He directs your head forward slowly as the words drip from his tongue. 

But, rather than your hands resuming the typing you'd given up on since he started touching you, they fall to the sides of your godforsaken computer, fisting the covers. "I-I won't be able-"

"M'no, no backtalk, or else I'll go an wank off rather than help you relax, love." Your mouth snaps shut, breathing turning shallow as your heart thrums in the hollow of your throat. "Understood?"

"Yes". There are a few beats of silence as John lets go of your jaw. You wait for his next move, but so does he, apparently, as suddenly his palm connects with your ass, the spank reverberating in the air together with your gasp.

You know what he wants, then. "Yes, Captain." His title sends a shudder down your spine, the implications of its use telling what's to come.

"Good girl", is the low-muttered response you get against the shell of your ear as John settles into his previous position again.

His hand glide over the globe of your ass, soon joined by his other one. You can only imagine the sight he's greeted with when he rucks down your panties and spreads your cheeks enough to bare you for him.

You feel how wet you are. The crotch of your panties tying your legs together is damp against your inner thighs. The uncomfortable feeling of being soaked between your legs makes you squirm beneath John's gaze.

"Squirmin' already, and I've barely touched you", he hums, letting his thumb fall to your entrance again. When he curls the digit, it disappears inside you, forcing a stutter moan out of you.

He toyed with you, teasingly stretching you over his thumb as he wiggled it at the entrance. Sometimes, John let it slide deeper, which had your thighs clenching beneath his thicker ones straddled over you. 

You whimpered, head falling to the bed when he used the slick you'd coated him in to rub your clit. The stutter of your hips was impossible to stop, but rather than a swat to your ass and a disappointed sound, the one you could've presumed would leave John. His tut was filled with remorse, the way he kneaded your ass almost caringly.

"So strung tight, ain't you, love?" You whined in response when his thumb left your clit, sliding up and down the seam of your pussy. "Poor thing", he hummed, low and gravelly in his chest. If not for your body already vibrating, you bet you could've felt the same bone-deep rumble of his voice through your back.

"Yeah-oh!" A moan cut off your sentence, John's thumb swapped to the head of his cock in the middle of it. It was a slow push inside, having your mouth falling open, another moan forced into the bed.

The familiar burn of his thick cock stretching you wider made your eyes screw shut and your breathing heavy. With little to no prep, apart from your slick and John's teasing, the delicious stretch around him was slower than usual.

"Oh my-", you whimpered, feeling John move and his weight settles against your back.

A hand beneath your throat is what forces your head up. With a slight bend backwards, you met with blue eyes gazing down at you. The picture of John was upside down, but the evident lust in his features as his hips met your ass shone no less clearly.

"How's that work goin' for you?" His voice was thick, dripping from his mouth into yours from how your lips brushed.

You opened your mouth, intent on replying. Though, John had another idea. Before your words could more than begin as a deep inhale, he started to fuck into you, torturously slow but deep, rocking your body from how tightly he pressed himself against your rear.

Intended words escaped as nothing more than a moan he swallowed with a messy kiss, your sound of pleasure urging a deep groan from John in response.

Your eyes fluttered when John shifted just right and hit that bundle of nerves inside you that made silvery stars dance across your vision. He must have felt your walls contract as he picked up his pace. And basically rutted into the bed, your eyes fluttered and your neck going loose, forcing John to let you down so you would not bend it at an awkward angle. 

With your cheek pressed against the bed, you followed the large man sitting straight again through your peripheral. He appeared larger when he grabbed your hips, pushing those big pecs of his together, puffing his chest up. 

His bicep flexed, and his head tipped back a notch when he pushed your legs together more firmly with his thighs, feeling you tighten around him. The fit was snug, urging him to push firmer into you, lifting your hips the slightest bit to meet each thrust. 

You could drool at the sight of him huffing and groaning as the muscles in his stomach and arms flexed. Some wetness probably escaping along the constant strings of moans and whimpers flooding your mouth. The burly bulk of him working you closer to orgasm with each tug of your body and snap of his hips. Fuck did he look good.

"C-captain", you moaned wantonly, earning his attention as he haunched forward, sneaking a hand beneath your front to strum at your clit.

"Fuck me, love." John couldn't help but stutter through his words when your goaded groan stoked his primal pride at having you look so utterly dishevelled. "Lookin' so fuckin' cockdrunk."

You nodded absentmindedly, earning another grunt from the man shoving his cock possibly deeper as his finger toyed quicker over your sensitive bud. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, your mouth hanging open without a sound but heady exhales escaping. Your fingers were cramping, clutching and unclutching the rucked-up duvet around your face.

"Can feel you flutterin' around me. You needed this, didn't you? Already close." Fingers dug into your hipbones, and your body jolted when John switched the pace to agonisingly drag his cock out before slamming home. "Yeah, yeah? Are you goin' to cum for your Captain? Cream my cock while you work?"

Work was nothing but a memory now as you could only muster a moan in response.

You twitched beneath him, coming nowhere despite arching your back as you came, and John continued sliding over your clit with his finger. It was violent, ripping through all those frayed and tense nerves that had pulled tight through over the last few days.

You cried into the bed, shuddering when John kept pumping into you, prolonging the blessedly painful high he forced you into by the end. His rumbling grunts and mumbled praise spread goosebumps over your skin as you lay there, taking whatever he needed to spill inside you through the overstimulation.

Then John stilled, shoving himself deep as his thighs quivered and he pulsed inside you, the warmth and stickiness spilt inside you, making you weakly moan in satisfaction.

It was blessedly silent as you felt him push incredibly lazy into you once, twice, before he pulled out and settled on his haunches, pulling your cheeks apart to probably look at the white dribble of cum that oozed out of you. He hummed contentedly, smoothing his palm over your bottom before he wedged a hand beneath your hips, helping you lift them as he pulled your panties up your legs again.

You whined at the uncomfortable coldness but stopped once John's thumb ran soothing circles into your spine.

Your eyes had fallen shut, the fatigue from earlier creeping violently close. The only thing making your lashes flutter was once John leans over your body, closing the laptop that switched to standby long ago. 

His hand is kept on the device as he leans down, his head notching on your shoulder and his lips resting against the shell of your ear as he falls to his elbow.

"You're done". This time around, it wasn't a suggestion. 

You can't argue this time, only hum and tip your head in an attempted nod. Your head is silent for the first time in three days, and the pleasant buzz makes your body completely lax. John takes it as an agreement as he leans down and kisses your shoulder blade. 

One press off his lips turns into two, and then a question breaks the pattern, "You feelin' alright?"

"Mhm" is all you can muster in return. You receive a last kiss against your clothes-covered skin before John stands from the bed while you remain put. 

You feel the laptop disappear, presuming John puts it away to charge for the night.

"Come on now, love, up you get". Your head twists to watch John as he stands beside the bed in his naked glory. A tension was lost in his shoulders now.

"M'too tired", you mumble.

"Now it suits you", he laughs softly, a quirk tugging in the corner of his lip as he bends down. 

You move easily when he pushes you over to your back, enjoying the view John offers above you. When he inserts his hand behind your knees and your back to scoop you into his arms, you sober up quickly as you release a squeal, eyes widening as your arms shoot to wrap around his neck. 

His chuckle vibrates against your ribcage as he readjusts his grip on you before he sets off to the en suite. 

"Waited for you to take that shower with me, but looks like I had to take it into my own hands".

"So you're kidnapping me to take another?"

"Yes", he says, shifting his eyes to yours before stopping to push the door open with his foot.

"What a gentleman", you giggle, craning your neck to kiss his beard-covered jaw quickly.

"Didn't leave me with any gentlemanly options", John fixes you with a look as he lets you down.

"Guess the both of us can get stuck in work sometimes," you shrug, blinking up at him with innocent eyes and giving him an apologetic smile.

His arms circle your waist, accepting your regretful gesture by pulling you close to him. All the while, John huffs to playfully deflect your accusation towards him. 

"Don't know what you're talkin' about".

"Don't know what I'm talking about, huh?" You question with a cocked brow, a smile pulling at the edge of your mouth. "Says the man who would rate his study a close second behind being in bed with me".

"Surfaces to fuck you in both places." He shrugs. Your mouth drops open, your spluttering making him let out a short laugh, a boyish smile now tugging at his lips. "And... it's not my fault you consider one of your offices the most fuckable surfaces in the house, nor your work attire this", he defends himself half-heartedly while slipping a hand beneath his oversized tee covering your body.

You lightheartedly swat his chest, chuckling as you detangle yourself from his arms. 

You feel John's eyes rove over your body while you pull the shirt over your head, catching his gaze once you drop it to the floor. You lift a brow once his eyes rise to yours, only briefly, however, as they soon drop again when you step out of your sticky panties.

You feel the wetness left behind between your legs; no doubt that John also sees it from how his chest expands when you step backwards through the open shower doors and onto the still, slightly wet ground from his previous shower.

When he follows you, he instantly pulls your naked body against his as if he hadn't just held you.

Just before the water hits your front, John huddles close, bending slightly forward so the water cascades over the back of his head instead. 

He runs a hand through his hair to push his drenched locks backwards. Droplets fly and hit you in the face, and you raise a hand to swipe most of them from your lashes.

You stand in comfortable silence as you stare at each other. John's hands wander up and down your sides, your hands no better as they slide over his wet torso. He can't take his eyes off of you, gaze slowly dipping, mapping your body as if he hasn't seen it naked countless times.

"You're touchy tonight", you hum, following his gaze as it settles on your breasts, hands soon moving to the same place.

"Have barely felt you for days." He fondles you in his hands, much gentler in all his touches now compared to earlier, simply feeling you up. 

"Could've just asked if you wanted to have some time for us without my laptop present", you jokingly offer.

John only raises a brow as his eyes lock with yours, his hands stilling and ultimately sliding down your ribs to rest on your hips.

"With how you've buried that nose in the screen, I didn't know if you fancied if I would come and cop a feel". You tip your head side to side. "You're probably right." John only cocks his brows, a silent dig at the probably you threw in there. "But I didn't mind it now".

He shakes his head, reaching down to plan a swift kiss on your lips. "'Course you didn't when bein' so wound up. Know a good fuck makes you relax".

"Oh, shut up," you say, pushing his face away with your hand and bashfully dipping your head. He laughs lowly through the shower stream you'd moved him into. 

He shook his head as he exited the water, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

[sinofwriting]

So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

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“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn’t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if you knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼: 𝓐𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

Stepdad!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother forces you to tag along on Javi’s trip to New York. She says you need to learn to get along. And get along you do. Aka horny, drunk, high, debauched sex with stepdad Javi. Part 2 of ‘Teasing like you do’.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, stepdad trope and all that comes with, dubious morals and relationship, age gap [reader is 18/19 Javi is in his mid 40s], reader wears a dress, petnames [ Bunny], mommy & daddy issues ™ , deceased parent, angst, DUBCON, alcohol consumption, drug use, cigarette smoking, inebriated sex, brat tamer!softdom!Javi, subby! brat!reader, f masturbation, rough sex, major size kink [Javi is bigger than reader, can rough house with her], degradation, dumbification, praise kink, daddy kink and dd/lg vibes, dirty talk, finger sucking, c*meating?, choking, spanking [with hands] , hair pulling [no hair type specified], dry humping, somno, messy sex, fingering, unprotected P in V [be better!!], multiple orgasms and creamp*es. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 9k

A/N: This Javi is honestly my fav that I’ve written. This is part 2/3, and it’s double the fun from last time. Javi is just so soft (and crazy) and there’s so much smut and some angst for you nasties. Combined the top two highest votes answers from this poll! Thanks to all who voted!! Hope you enjoy! Mwah!

🌼 Part I 🌼 Masterlist

Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

“New York?” You raise your brow and watch your mother fold the kitchen towels and toss them onto the counter one by one. “Yes. You can’t avoid him forever. He’s here to stay, and you’re going to like it, and him. That’s final.” Oh, you do like him—her husband, that is. In fact, you arguably get on a bit too well. You bite your lip to keep from commenting on her sour tone. She doesn’t need to know you and Javier had become quite well acquainted over the weekend—if him taking your virginity was any indication.

Even though her tone sets your teeth on edge, you spare yourself the crisis of revealing you are sleeping with her husband and instead decide to take up the opportunity she offers you on a silver platter with a curt nod and some feigned annoyance.

Your mum brings it up to her husband at dinner. He's eating and he looks up at her for a moment before shrugging and agreeing it would be a good chance to bond. Javier is even better at feigning his own indifference to the suggestion, so much so, in fact you’re afraid fooling around with you is not in fact part of his plans in New York. Its been two days since he’s fucked you and you’re always on edge. He hasn’t been around the house much because he's dealing with the fallout of the raid and it's driving you wild. 

You’ve spent the nights desperately grinding against your plush pillows but it seems like he's the only person that can actually get you off. Ever since you actually felt what it was like to cum you can't get enough and you’re resenting him for every moment he’s not between your legs. 

Safe to say you’re desperately counting on this not being a one time thing. 

After dinner you busy yourself with the clearing up, and your mother leaves to answer the phone just as Javi brings the last pot from the table to the kitchen counter. It's the first time you’re alone with him since the weekend and as he leaves he comes up behind you to lean beside your ear. He snaps the strap of your bra and kisses your shoulder. “Gonna let me fill this tight little pussy up again?” 

He shifts his hands to your waist. It's the second time he's touched you this way, and this time you can feel the cool metal of his wedding band graze your warm skin. You swallow, then look towards the livingroom to see the shadow of your mum walking around with the landline in her hand, chatting away to a neighbour. You nod your head, and after lowly chuckling Javi reaches a hand down to grab a handful of your ass. When he squeezes you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. 

“Good, bunny.” He slaps your ass for good measure and you hear his footsteps get distant as he leaves the kitchen and walks up the stairs. 

At night you try to sleep but you’re too horny and wet. The feeling of his hands on your body drive you crazy and nothing can distract from it. The room is quiet and it's so hot you’ve got every window open. The cool breeze from outside grazes your skin and you flinch. You're too sensitive. 

You toss and turn for a while but you can’t help yourself, you groan and your hand drifts under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers slip between your folds and you’re dripping. A quiet breathy sigh escapes your lips as you spread your wetness and rub your cunt. 

Your other hand squeezes at your breast under your sleep shirt and you moan, you’re so on edge you think you might just make yourself cum. You rub yourself a little while longer, teetering on the edge but somehow unable to tip over it. Your hand is drenched and you feel your slick smear against your inner thighs. Even still you can’t seem to get there. You dip a finger into your weeping entrance and shiver. You wonder if you felt the same to Javi, your fingers surely didn’t feel like his. 

You sink back against your pillows. 

You're staring at the ceiling a good twenty minutes when you hear the front door shutting from outside. Bounding to the window you lean over its edge to see Javier getting into his car, one hand shoving his gun into his holster. He's a little shadow, a little splodge of navy blue against a background of swishing greens, and blacks and little orange lights. 

A pit in your stomach grows when the car pulls out of the driveway and into the street. It makes you sick to admit but you worry when he runs out like that in the middle of the night. You wonder where he's off too, you have always wished he was safe. Even when he wasn’t fucking you, he might have been the best thing to happen to your family in a while. 

Hell, even when you thought you hated his guts, you knew he was the only good thing to happen to your family in a while. And you weren’t an idiot. Sure, to say you and your mother got along would be gracious, but she too lost a husband when you lost a father. She spent her days alone in a home she built from the ground up with the love of her life. 

At some level, you forgave her, you loved her. When you first slept with him, you felt guilty, you felt like you were robbing her of the one good thing she had. But part of you wanted to avenge that little girl who got packed away, who had nowhere safe to go, who had no one. Javier could be your someone, at least intermittently, and while you didn’t blame her for what she did, no amount of intellectualising your suffering could make it better. 

She knew she couldn’t raise you alone so she decided not to raise you at all, and it was perhaps that that disheartened you the most. 

You notice the lights go out in the neighbours living room, you see shadows climb up the stairs. There's not much you can do besides return to bed and try to get some rest. 

— 

The trip comes around quicker than you expect. Before you know it your bags are packed and you’re boarding a plane with Javi. He is preoccupied with whatever it is he’s in New York for, so you’re spared the presumably awkward travel conversation. He lets you doze against his shoulder, and when you land he’s slinging your luggage over that same shoulder. It's a small bag but it isn’t weightless. You like how he makes it seem like it is. If only he knew about the skimpy lingerie he was lugging around. New York delights you with the warm, sunny weather. 

Once you’re actually at the hotel, you're barely there for ten minutes. “Twin beds?” the lady at the reception asks your stepfather, already expecting a yes. You can tell with the look on her face. You feel a little embarrassed that she’s even asking, but that embarrassment deepens tenfold when Javier stops her. “A double is fine” She quickly nods her head, looking nothing short of uncomfortable. Perhaps the only person more shocked is you. Your face burns and you look away. She doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you are to each other, but just seeing you two together would even have you embarrassed. 

Either way it's enough time to get rid of your luggage before Javi insists you get some food in you. He’s so preoccupied with whatever’s going on with his job you decide not to give him too much of a hard time. You’ll save that for later. 

He’s on the phone so much. He looks upset and stressed– as much as he lets himself look, that is. Even then he takes your hand in his when you cross the street, pulls you to his side when you’re in a crowd. He leads you into a coffee shop and finally gets off his mobile phone. 

By the time you’re sitting down with your coffee– well his coffee and your ice tea, you’re dying for him to pay attention to you. You twirl the straw between your lips and look up at him. He’s preoccupied, you can tell. 

When he's done restlessly tapping his fingers against the table he opens up the file he’s been lugging around all day, and a pen from his pocket. You think you spend ten whole minutes in silence, watching him annotate the swarm of papers inside. 

New york is as “hustle bustle” as you remember, the glass facade buildings are bouncing rays of sunshine off one another, the sky is that perfect shade of powder blue. There are so many people bumbling outside, all like little insects fleeting about. You observe them from the window, they don't pay attention to you, or anyone for that matter– they’re looking ahead. 

The last time you had been here was with your father– you can see the hotel you stayed at from where you’re sitting. You have to crane your neck a bit though– Javier is disrupting the view. 

He doesn't notice when you get up from your seat and saunter towards the cafe counter. He didn’t notice you eyeing the red lollipops from your table the entire afternoon so you’re not surprised. But when you sit back down, lollipop in hand, and drag your foot up his calf under the table? Now that catches his attention. 

He watches you wrap your lips around it, watches you pucker them up and lick the underside of the sweet treat. Your lips part and you take it in your mouth, rolling the stick between your fingers with a knowing smile plastered across your face. It shines all glossy when you release it with a pop, and you run it along your bottom lip as Javi takes a strained sip from his cup of coffee. 

He tries to feign annoyance but a smile breaks through and he scoffs lightheartedly at your antics. The whole atmosphere is quite lighthearted. You felt warm and happy on the inside. You're glad you came. 

The rest of lunch passes in relative silence, and a comfortable silence. You finish your meal, and actually don’t mind the quiet time with Javi as he works on preparing for his meeting later in the evening. He lets you play footsie with him under the table, lets you play with his fingers as they rest idly against the tablecloth. 

On the way out he gets you another lollipop on request, and watches keenly as you unwrap it and pop it between your lips. The pink colouring stains your tongue when you release it and his eyes bloom with lust as he notices. They linger on your lips as they shine in the sun and the two of you step out of the cafe. 

He reaches forward, swipes his thumb on the corner of your mouth and pulls you against him. His eyes are glossy when he strokes your head gently. When he leans down his lips brush your forehead and his voice is lower than usual. 

“Messy little girl.” 

You skip ahead of him and into the street, then wait a few seconds for him to catch up. He’s already on the phone again and he's arguing with someone, he tosses you a few coins and gestures to the little shop beside you. Somehow you think you know what he's asking, so you hop in and snag him a pack of cigs. When you run back out he's still arguing, but he watches you run towards him and he smiles rather proudly as he takes the pack from your hands and lights one up. 

You feel a little giddy and you cover it up with a smirk, but he pulls you into his side and pats your head affectionately and you can't help the heat that creeps onto your cheeks. 

— 

“Don't wait up for me.” 

He’d said as he left the hotel room. And how exactly was he planning to make good on his promise of fucking you dumb with that instruction? True, you were beyond tired from the long travel day, but even at thirty past midnight you were more than determined to stay up to welcome Javier after his important work meeting. 

“What the hell is taking him so long, anyway?” you wonder out loud, hanging upside down off the plush couch set beside the windows in your hotel room. With an outstretched hand you grope for the pills you’d set on the coffee table, and pop another in your mouth. 

You know it's not a good idea, he’ll be upset, and angry, and he’ll give you such a hard time for it. You giggle, remembering the “hard time” he gave you last time he found out you were up to no good. 

“Bunny?” His voice is slurred just a little, thick and hoarse. You jump upright on the sofa and watch with dizzy eyes as he clicks the hotel room door shut and chucks the keycard onto the counter beside it. He’s craning his neck a little to catch sight of you but from where you're seated you can barely see each other. 

The sound of his leather boots clacking against the marble prompts you to slip out of your trance and toss the bottle of pills you’d had on the coffee table haphazardly under it and on the floor. Retrospectively, what you aimed to achieve doing that is unclear, but it was an effort nonetheless. The lit joint stays between your fingers, however, and before you can even divert your attention to it and decide what you’re going to do with it, Javi is leaning in the entryway and raising his brows at you.

You watch him rest his shoulder in the archway for a moment and kick off his boots. “Told ya to get to sleep..” he looks tired, and a little bit irritated, though there's nothing unusual about that. “I thought you wanted to fuck me?” you kick your legs up on the couch and he turns his head in your direction. The look he shoots you makes you feel just a little guilty for bothering him. Your own tone and cheeky remarks surprise you. “What did you say? You were gonna “fill this tight little pussy up again?””

What you say seems to catch his attention. So does the lit joint you’re holding up. 

“Have you been drinking?” he stalks towards you and picks up the pills you assumed you'd stealthily chucked under the table. His shoulders drop and he puts a hand on his hip. “No.” you sound a lot more guilty than you’d like.  

“What the fuck is this?” he's struggling to remain composed as he gestures to the mess you made– between the sofa and the coffee table. His jaw ticks and he reaches for the joint and yanks it from your grip. He's been drinking, you can smell the whiskey off his leather jacket, it’s strong enough for you to know the meeting likely ended several hours prior.  “I told ya last time-”

He turns to put away the bottle and you attempt to stand up and follow him. His hand on your chest stops you however, and pushes you back onto the sofa till your ass is landing on it with a thud. God, he's such a hypocrite. “You're the one walking in drunk” 

You watch him shove the pill bottle in his duffle bag, then turn back toward you and take a drag from your joint. “Don't give me that attitude, little girl.” His actions only piss you off further. And here you thought this would be a fun little trip. 

“Or what? Looks like you aren’t gonna fuck me anyway.” he shrugs of his jacket with the joint placed deftly between his lips. He’s so hot it’s difficult to maintain your annoyance– especially considering he can tell you're far from sober– with your slurred speech, too loud voice and whining. “Had a few drinks and now you're playing good cop?” 

He probably also knows you're trying to get on his nerves. Which is why he ignores your incessant cribbing and plops some paperwork on the coffee table, taking a seat beside you on the couch and grabbing your face between his fingers. The cool metal of the wedding band presses gently against your skin, a constant reminder of its presence. You can smell the whiskey and cigarettes off his skin. “High off your fuckin ass.” 

He takes another drag and runs a hand over his face, his own back hitting the couch as he slumps against it. You reach for the joint but he smacks your hand away. “No bunny, I think that’s enough.” 

Your groaning makes him roll his eyes and you begin to get increasingly frustrated. “I don’t understand what your deal is. Are you always on the clock or something?” you grab his wrist and haul yourself onto his lap. Now straddling him you feel a jolt of arousal soar across your spine. 

“Cant keep doin this shit” he tries to wrangle the joint out of your grip with a hand on your wrist, and after struggling with you for a second he frustratedly grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer till your forehead is pressed against his. He sounds tired of reprimanding you.  “Let go.” 

You know you sound pathetic but you whine and let go. You feel his hard length swell against your now damp panties. Javi takes the joint back and takes a drag, he shifts under you and you bounce on his lap. The feel of his denim against your clit has you biting your lip in an attempt to retain your composure.

“That desperate are you?” Javier laughs and toys with the straps on your dress. “Just fuck me.. Please.” you do sound desperate. Javi rolls his eyes, and his lack of attention directed towards you irks you to no end. 

“Shut that whore mouth and maybe I'll think about it.” he smacks your ass and kisses your cheek to make up for it. “be good.” a beat of silence passes, and you fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, watch him smoke the joint till his eyes are cloudy and fluttering shut. You think you’re a bit more high than before thanks to the second hand smoke. 

You want to kiss him, want to call him that name that's been bubbling in your throat since that night in the woods. You watch Javi take another drag, a final drag, and put out the joint in the ashtray. 

You can't help yourself, you close your eyes and lean in, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss and melting into his arms. You think it might do you some good to get back on his good side. “Hi, daddy.” If you were sober you’d be horrified, but you have more than enough liquid courage in you to test the waters. There’s a short but pregnant pause, and Javier's surprised expression makes your heart quicken. 

“Hi, bunny.” Javi raises his brows, laughs and cups your cheek. The tensions long left his shoulders. Handsome, he’s so handsome. He’s always been. His eyes are droopier than they usually are. “Daddy, need you..” It comes out as a whisper, a whine and a plea all at the same time. “Need you to fuck me.” 

“Jesus christ, bunny. Tryna kill me?” His hand smooths up and down your thigh, his other drawing patterns on your waist and caging you against him. He kisses you lightly, and you giggle against his lips, he does it again, and again, and again, then tilts your jaw up to put his mouth on your neck. You gasp, your hands reach to tangle in his soft, wavy hair, and you pull him impossibly closer. Your tugging makes him groan, and his hand slips under your top to undo the clasp of your bra. 

You call out his name as he discards your lingerie, dizzy and dripping for him, unable to get enough of his lips on your skin. Slinging your other leg over his waist you lay yourself sideways in his lap. The heat that radiates off his skin prompts you to curl up even closer to him, and you try your best to undo the top buttons of his shirt. 

You get distracted when his hand disappears between your thighs and under your dress. He rubs your wet pussy through the fabric of your panties and you moan into his mouth. You’re getting more impatient by the second, and he's being far too slow and gentle for your liking. 

Your hand finds his wrist under your skirt and you reluctantly pry his hand away. Before he can look up you’re climbing onto his lap and grinding your clothed cunt against him in a swift, slow roll of your hips. Surprised, his hands grab your waist and he leans back on the chair. Javier tries to flip you onto your back again but you slot your fingers against his and roll your hips. He lifts his own to meet your core and you shiver.“Impatient little thing. Just wanna take what you want, don’t you?” 

“Ohh daddy…’s too hot.” Javi’s voice strains as he curses under his breath and slides your dress off your upper body till the fabric is pooling at your waist. As you rock against him he tugs and bunches it up, controlling your moments. “Soakin my fuckin’ jeans, Bun..” He lifts the fabric up to watch you grind on his bulge.  

His words make you groan, and you feel the desire pool even deeper in your belly. With his hands managing your movements you let your own grab onto his shoulders– stabilising yourself. “Goddamn, pretty as a picture.” Thank god you thought to maintain your balance, because you might have just fallen off Javier’s lap when his mouth found your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth and prompting a loud but lazy moan to slip past your lips. 

He nips at your skin, kissing his way back up your neck and grinding into your clothed crotch. “Like using daddy like you use your pillows, baby?” The coil in your belly only tightens and your words slur. “‘S better….” You’re drunk and dizzy, your ears burn but you can't stop. It feels so good. 

“Mhm, bet it is, baby bunny, them pillows don’t make you cum, do they?” you shake your head “no”, and Javi responds with a chuckle. He pulls you closer and you drop your head against his shoulder. “That’s right, just daddy, ain’t it?”.  His lips find your neck again and he mumbles hushed praises against your skin. His voice is soft but strained, and you feel him throb against you. 

You move faster against him, chasing that release that's so close, your thighs parting even more across him. You’re practically bouncing in his lap, the rub of his jeans against your clit sending you into a frenzy. Javi’s hands palm your breasts and it feels like your whole body is on fire. “That's it, good girl.” 

Your hips stutter and with a final rise of Javier’s hips. You don't even register it happening, something inside you just snaps. He holds you against him, watches the way your eyes roll right to the back of your head as you reach your high. You can hear him groan but your ears are mostly ringing, pussy fluttering around nothing. You’re sure your panties are soaked at this point. The moan that erupts from your throat is nothing short of pornographic. 

You feel the heat seep onto his jeans, and you twitch a final few times from the aftershocks as you move yourself against him, now slightly slower. He twists your nipple between his fingers, then slaps your ass so hard you go reeling forward into his chest. Surely, when your hips lift off his, a dark, wet spot has formed on his grey denim. The both of you look down at his lap, at the lewd string of slick that connects your panty covered core to his jeans. 

“Already, bunny?!” He’s half surprised, half proud. A sort of excited smirk tugs at his lips and snaps the band of your panties against your ass. In reaction you bury your face further in his neck, leaving desperate, sloppy, open mouth kisses there. “Still all achy, aren’t ya?” 

Javier groans and slides his fingers between your thighs, his other hand keeping a vice grip on your hip. “So fuckin wet, got these panties all messy huh?” You're already throbbing again, and your nipples pebble impossibly harder thanks to his touch. It doesn't help that you feel all conscious and small– your bare chest pressing against Javi’s still clothed body. 

You mewl and tug at his shirt and he chuckles, a smug smile plastered on his face. “Behave..” you pout and groan impatiently. “Silly thing.” He grabs your hands and plants them on his chest, his own moving to slide your dress over your head and discard it on the ground beside you. 

You toy with the buttons on his shirt yet again and he gives you a warning look in response, ending your misery and undoing them himself. You can’t help but continue to grind against him with little rolls of your hips, your soaked panties sticking to your cunt and making the friction even more pleasing. Javi smacks your ass in warning. “Patience, little slut.” 

You can't even register what's happening, he's throwing you onto the bed and yanking your panties down your legs. You push yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at Javi climbing on top of you. 

Your little show doesn’t last long, because in a second he's flipping you onto your stomach and smacking your ass till you're whimpering for him. Prompting you on all fours he grabs your hips in his massive hands, getting behind you on his knees. 

His thumb swipes the cut of your pussy, and he groans as he feels and spreads your wetness along your cunt. “Always so fuckin wet, dumb little thing.” his index and middle dip into your warm, waiting hole, and the stretch of his thick fingers have your knees giving out under you. 

Javier laughs, but snakes a hand around your middle to hold you up for him. You feel his cock press up against your ass– hot and needy. You wiggle your hips and push back against him, but that only earns you a spank and a mumbled “brat”. 

Agonisingly slow for your liking he runs his cock up the length of your pussy, smearing the precum at the head and further spreading your wetness. “Please…” he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in in a single, deep thrust. 

You pity the people in the neighbouring rooms upon hearing the downright pornographic moan that leaves your mouth. The feeling of his thick cock stretching you open brings that heaviness to your hips, a buzzing that spreads all across your body and stings you where Javi’s got his hands. 

Those hands smooth along your back travel up to your head to catch a hold on your hair. A strong sense of dizziness overcomes you thanks to his fingertips grazing your scalp, and that feeling only intensifies tenfold when he tugs at your hair and forces your gaze directly ahead of you. He can tell you’ve already lost yourself, can sense the way you've gone dumb with the simple gesture, how you like being used like a little doll. 

“Look at that, gone dumb already?” each thrust of his hits deeper thanks to the way he's tugging you towards him. His words make you shiver and gush around his cock. “Gonna fuck this tight little pussy like ya need.” 

His hand that's resting on your hip lands a spank to your ass and you yelp.  “Fuck bunny, bet it feels nice to have somthing filling this pretty little snatch again huh?” you nod, then mewl at the drag of his cock against your wet walls. 

“This pussy’s fuckin made for me.” he groans as he thrusts inside you–voice strained and hoarse. “Gonna mould ya into my perfect little cockslut.Teach ya how to really take it.” you nod your head, relishing in the pull and tug on your scalp thanks to his relentless grip on your hair. “Gonna fill you up till you're dripping with my cum.” 

He chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, you want that?” you feel him lean down and kiss along your spine. When he speaks you feel his lips murmur against your skin. “Want daddy to teach ya how to be his perfect little sex bunny?” 

“That's right, bet ya do– insatiable little thing, aren't ya?” he lets go of your hair and his hand drifts to your neck. Your skin is on fire. 

“Daddy” 

“I know baby Bun.”  He guides you up with a hand around your neck, your face turning to bury in the crook of his neck. Your eyes barely open to watch his face contort in pleasure. The expanse of his chest welcomes you, and you rest your head back against his shoulder, your nose brushing the nape of his neck. His thrusts don't cease and the new angle has you groaning into his skin. 

He notices your incessant lip biting, the way you reach to slot your lips against his. He obliges, sliding his tongue into your mouth, your own lips being forced to part from his when he thrusts deep inside you and you gasp. 

“Need something to keep that mouth busy, dontcha’ lil darlin’?” His index and middle finger swipe against your bottom lip. Pushing his digits past your lips he watches as you gently suck, groaning when you run your tongue against them. “That’s it. Let daddy take control.” 

Your own arms reach behind you to wind around his neck, back arching thanks to the pleasure. You moan around his digits, jaw going slack when you feel his fingers on your clit. Your pussy bares down on his cock as he rubs you in soft circles. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and angles your face to watch his other hand move between your thighs. 

The sight is so erotic you think it might just make you cum. “Yeah.. like that don’t you? Dirty girl.” His breath is warm against your skin. All his words are muffled against your hairline. “Like seeing what daddy does to you?” 

He kisses your cheek and his other hand shifts a pillow below your hips to push you back onto. He chuckles when you flop onto the bed with a yelp. When you land back on the bed and he thrusts inside you the new angle makes you squirm, you don’t think you could even describe the feeling of being so full. He pushes you down with both hands on your hips and fucks you into the matress. 

You try to lift your head to look behind you but his hands travel to grab a hold of your hair. “Gonna let me use ya?” an incoherent ‘yes’ leaves your mouth in the form of a scream. “Hmm baby Bun?” you reply yet again, but your capacity to respond is greatly diminished as his cock brushes that sweet spot inside you. 

Over and over, you feel your pussy flutter around him and you can’t help it when your mouth hangs open. “Who's daddy's little sex doll?” frantically nodding, you refuse to rely on your ability to reply coherently with words. Daddy doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t need you to respond. “You are, aren't you? my little sex bunny.” 

His palm comes down on your ass and you reel forward, only for him to tug you back with his hold on your hair. “Such a pretty little doll for daddy.” He tugs you into him with every thrust and you whimper, hands gripping the sheets and legs giving out till you're only held up by the pillow. “My girl.” 

He's so deep inside you you’re not even sure you can understand the new sensations. It's like he can read your mind. “Feel daddy, baby bunny?” he tugs on your hair once again, his other hand reaching down to plant firmly on your lower belly. “Yeah? Feel daddy in here?” 

He doesn't wait for you to nod, just uses his grip on your hair to do it for you. It's not like you could really think straight before, but now that Javi was tossing you around like an inanimate object, moulding you for himself, using you how he wanted, moving for you. 

His hand drops from your tummy to brace itself beside your head. In a second, he's lowering himself completely onto you, your entire body pressed against the pillows and fluffy duvet, and his entire front pressed to your back. With every thrust inside you you feel every single detail of his body as it rests against yours. 

The way he's resting on his forearms has him caging you against the bed, in a cocoon of your own. Your body is confined between his arms, your own forearms holding you up under him. You feel so small under him, his movements hitting you with extreme intensity. You fist the sheets in your fingers and groan. 

“Who makes this tight, slutty little pussy cum?” his lips brush against your cheek with every word that escapes them. Everything feels so warm, and vulnerable. You’re just a doll for his pleasure. You can barely recognise your own voice anymore– so whiny and desperate.

“You do.” 

“And who am I?” he squishes your face between his fingers. “Daddy!” you surge forward a little with the force of his thrust. You attempt to press your forehead against his but he’s determined on having a full view of your face as you slowly come apart on his cock. “Who makes you feel so goddamn good you can’t even think straight?” 

Javier takes delight in your incoherent, trembling answers. “Daddy does”. He eggs you on, seemingly unable to get enough of the way you scramble to respond to him while being unable to control your sounds of pleasure. “Whose cock got ya going all dumb?” 

“Daddy’s” he coos and laughs against your skin, his death grip on your cheeks not ceasing. “That’s fuckin right, aint it.” He takes your chin in his hand and turns your face away from his, then buries his face in your neck and sucks at your skin. Your arms give out under you and you’re now fully pressed against the bed. You hear it creak indecently with every one of your movements. 

“Such a good bunny.” Javier’s cheek is flush with yours, and you’re sure he can feel just how hot they are against his cool skin. A swarm of butterflies flutters in your tummy and you whine, so incredibly close to the release you’ve been desperate for all evening. 

“Need daddy to make you cum?” both of his arms wind around your body, wedging themselves between yourself and the mattress. “Yes please, please daddy, really wanna.” you press your forehead against the pillow but he tilts it up. 

“Oh baby bunny..” you feel him throb inside you and his thrusts become sloppier. You can tell he’s nearing his end. “Good fucking girl..” the heat radiating off his body has sweat dripping down your back. You’re so close to cumming you push your hips back against him– whatever little you can, still mostly smothered by his towering frame. “Sound so sweet askin daddy like that. Usin’ your manners.” 

“Please daddy, make me cum..” with a sharp, deep thrust his cock nudges that spot inside you just right. The coil in your belly snaps and your whole body goes limp. “Wanna see that pretty little face.” Javi keeps your face tilted towards his so he can capture your lips in a messy kiss as you come undone around his cock– unable to reciprocate with your eyes rolling back into your head and your mouth parting in a strained, languid moan. “That's it, look at daddy’s good girl.” 

Seeing your face seems to set his own release off, and you feel Javi rut into your fluttering, wet heat in a few final, deep thrusts before his cock is pulsing against your walls and painting them in hot ropes of his spend. You vaguely hear him groan, and he nips your bottom lip. 

Javier takes a moment to catch his breath, slumping on top of you briefly before rolling onto his side. His touch, and his weight over your body is already something you miss, and you reach for him– arm reaching out and hand groping for purchase on his skin. He indulges you and pulls you on top of him, lets you catch your own breath with your chest pressed against his. You feel his spend mess your inner thighs. You murmur the word “pillow” and hope he gets the message to shift it before getting it dirty. Thankfully he does. 

By the time he’s pulling said pillow from under your hips and rolling you onto your side you’re half asleep. He collapses beside you and pulls you into his chest. You wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head against him. He's like a wall between you and the rest of the room. 

With your eyes closed and mind stuck between sleep and wakefulness you snuggle into him, giving yourself to dreamland. You hear him whisper before you lose all consciousness 

“Good night, baby bunny.” 

— 

You don't know how long it's been since you fell asleep. Javier’s arms, that have been caging you against him, move delicately to loosen around your frame. With fluttering eyelids you gain an ounce of consciousness to register the movement of your leg over Javi’s waist. 

It's all warm and fuzzy, and you murmur his name as a question before nuzzling into his neck. You can't tell what's happening, just hear him hush your whines when you feel his cock slide against your dripping seam. You wiggle your hips, already desperate for him. His tip bumps your clit and you shiver. 

You’re tired, you’re sleepy, hell you’re barely conscious. You drift between sleep and wakefulness, your skin setting ablaze as he lines himself up with your warm centre and slowly buries himself to the hilt. 

His lips slot against yours and his tongue slips into your mouth. You struggled to kiss him back as his cock slides in and out of your aching pussy. He squeezes your breast in his palm and you moan into his mouth. “S’okay, just keep makin’ them pretty sounds for me..” You can't help but sleepily moan and mewl. “all those pretty sounds for daddy? Aren't they?”

The both of you know he’s right. Javier’s lips come back to meet yours and he swallows your whimpers, you feel yourself getting closer and your pussy clenches down on his cock. His body's heat isn’t helping. The sheets get too warm and you feebly try and kick them off. 

Javi pulls them off you and the cool air from the AC hits your bar upper body. Sighing, you return your arms around his neck and push your hips towards his. “I know, baby Bun..” he holds you against him. “I know..” Your body hasn’t cooled down and you feel your chest burn with the heat. Your nipples pebble under the cool air and you bring his hand to your chest to ease the tension. The sensations make you impossibly more desperate and you search for his lips once again. 

He obliges and brings his face down to yours, his thrusts slow but deep and firm. Your breath becomes quicker and you feel the tension about to snap. Your lips go slack against his and he licks into your mouth as you moan softly and your walls pulse around his cock. You can barely hear him groan and you’re halfway back asleep already.

He thrusts inside your hot, throbbing heat a few more times before stilling inside you and filling you up. The feeling of his cock pulsing against your walls makes you shiver. He pulls out and you vaguely gauge the mess between your legs– far worse than before.  You swing your leg higher over his waist and he pulls you closer, you’re almost immediately back asleep. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck and dozes off. 

— 

The sun doesn't stand a chance disturbing you and peeking through the thick, blackout curtains– you’re awoken by the comforting sound of the kettle boiling over in its stead. Wakefulness evades you, but your eyes flutter open to catch Javier’s silhouette standing at the counter beside the tv, taking the kettle off its stand and making himself some tea. A soft rustling fills the room as you turn in the fluffy, plush sheets, only now realising you’re clothed in a fresh pair of panties and Javier’s old Lakers’ shirt– the one he wears around the house. 

You feel fresh, and you smell great– like the somebody bobbing his teabag in his cup had taken the opportunity to give you a nice sponge bath while you were still sleeping. You call that someone’s name– voice still thick with sleep. When you actually try to sit up you’re suddenly aware of how sore the previous night's escapades have actually left you. 

Javi turns in your direction, and his bedhead and overall morning grogginess doesn't go over your head. You envy your mother– she wakes up to this every single morning and still manages to be a bitch. What you wouldn’t give… 

“Got a few more hours till we leave.” He sits down in the armchair next to the windows and places his cup on the table. You’re surprised by how nonchalant he always seems to be about this whole situation. His wedding band catches the light of the sun and twinkles. You feel a pit in your stomach. 

He doesn’t pay you any mind as you roll out of bed, busy with his files from his meeting from the previous day. It takes you a minute to get to him, and you push his thighs apart and sit on the ground between his legs. You’re not exactly sure what you’re doing there, but you assume it’ll help you wake up. You want to be next to him, that's all you know. 

You rest your cheek on his thigh as he reads, and you can't help that your mind wanders to the events of the previous night. A tingle runs down your spine, and your eyes fall to his lap. You’ve never given anyone head before, and suddenly the thought of Javier grabbing your face and fucking into your mouth with his thick cock seems more appealing than ever. 

You shift on the ground beneath him, and nuzzle his thigh. His hand comes down to stroke your head and your eyes flutter shut. He’s still reading when you begin to trace patterns on his thigh with your fingertips. 

“Want something, bunny?” Peering over the files he glances down at you, still stroking your head gently. You don’t reply, not even sure what or how you can ask for what you want him to teach you. Instead you shift on your knees and bend down to kiss along his stomach. 

“Asked ya something, baby..” he doesn’t stop you so you continue, toying with the waistband of his shorts between your fingers. “Gonna speak up before we gotta go home?” The mention of ‘home’ makes you cringe. Seemingly realising what exactly you’re asking for as you trail kisses along his inner thighs, Javi grabs a hold of your face and pulls you up till your resting your chin back against his stomach. “C’mon now, get up. Gotta save that energy– your momma’s got that barbeque tonight we gotta go to. Barely slept five hours.” You plant your face in his stomach and groan. You’re not exactly elated to go back home, and you know he knows that. 

“Thanks for reminding me.” 

Way to kill the mood. 

“It ain’t that bad, ya know.” he sighs quite heavily, and you hear him flip another page in the document he's holding. “I know you wanna go make a life far away, and your mother, she’s not the nicest to ya..” He puts down the papers as he speaks, and his hand twists around your neck. You know what he’s getting at– what he was trying to get at last night. 

The comment irks you, and you raise your head from his stomach and sit higher on your knees. “I am not having this conversation with you.” The hand that’s around your neck pulls you up till you're on your knees completely, and you place both hands on his thighs to keep your balance. “Can’t keep runnin’ away from every problem you have.” He tilts your head up as he speaks with a hold on your hair. 

“For the record you don't know anything about me or my mother.” You shake off his hold and catch his wrist in your grasp, firmly planted on his thigh. “I know you think you’ve got us all pinned down, but lest you need reminding– you’ve been in our lives all of what? Twelve months?” He doesn’t try to remove his hand from your grip, and you feel a little bad about how you’re lashing out at him. 

“Bun..” Especially when he talks to you this way, all patient and sweet. “Can’t keep doin’ this..” his other hand reaches for your face but you grab it too. “Not now at least.” you know what’s coming next. “And ya can’t keep gettin so close to trouble. Can't keep runnin that mouth on everyone. Actin’ out.” 

The comment makes you roll your eyes, makes them burn unpleasantly. It doesn’t register whether he's right or not, you don't care. You're not interested. “I get it–  you’re a big hot shot detective and all, and you really like all this perfect picket fence family stuff. But I don’t need you to like be my dad or whatever it is you were hoping to be.” You pause and look between the both of you. “If that wasn’t abundantly clear already…” 

Even you flinch at the comment, but Javier doesn’t budge. His jaw ticks and your heart aches in regret. “That's not what I meant, Bun.” His voice is calm, and gentle, and it makes your eyes sting even more. He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue. “And it’s gonna come all crashin down and then what? Bein so reckless?” 

“You're not fixing anything, okay?” Your grip on his wrists tightens a little, and you harshly let go. “Will you just stop? Just lay off. I know what I'm doing.” You cringe at the sound of your own voice, at how juvenile and childish you’re being despite his kindness. You don't want to deal with whatever he’s trying to bring up. “Just stay out of it.” 

“I know ya are..” you get off your knees, hands still planted on your thighs in an attempt to hoist yourself up to your feet. You try to stand but he pulls you into his lap and you fall forward into his chest with a yelp. His arms tighten around you and you rest your head on his shoulder with your face turned away from him. He rubs your back gently and seems to decide to put a pin in the conversation.  “Bunny baby.” He can probably feel your heart thud against him. 

One of his hands sneaks up your, or rather his, shirt, and he squeezes the flesh of your thigh. “Done gettin all upset with me?” turning his head he places a few kisses against your neck– feather light, and chuckles when you whine and turn your own head to catch his lips with yours. “This what you wanted?” 

“Stubborn brat.” with both hands on your waist he pulls you down against him, your panty clad core meeting his hardness and sending a shiver down your spine. His words make you shiver and you grind down against him. His hand sneaks up and his fingers wrap around your throat– forcing your watery eyes to his. “Was gonna teach ya how to suck some cock, but you’re too much of a brat huh?” 

As he speaks, he reaches between the two of you, freeing his throbbing cock from his shorts and teasing your slit with his tip. Your hips rise and squirm and the grip he has on your throat makes you dizzy. “Need to get fucked silly again? Need me to shut ya up?” 

You can’t respond, just continue to mewl and chase the pleasure of his cock rubbing up against your dripping folds. He teases your tight hole– his head just barely pushing in only to retreat to your clit and leave you clenching around nothing. “Don't worry bunny, gonna teach ya how to shut that mouth right up.”

Your mouth waters at the thought. You bite your lip. You find a steady and sturdy grip on his shoulders and whisper a plea for him to “please daddy– let me” he cuts you off with a spank and sinks the head of his cock in your warm, wet, cunt. “Not today, not when ya givin’ me that attitude”  

“Please daddy-” he cuts you off with another spank, gripping your hips and letting you sink fully onto his cock. “Not another word from that mouth.” his fingers squish your face and he brings you to meet his eyes. “Gonna take what I give ya.” 

He thrusts up into your waiting cunt, holds you in place on his lap and uses you like a doll. “Lucky to be gettin’ my cock after bein’ such a fuckin’ brat” you mewl at the harshness of his words but its all to difficult to concentrate on when you can feel the delicious stretch of his thick cock splitting you open. No time to adjust before his hips are meeting yours with impressive speed. 

The obscene squelching of your wetness and the sound of slapping skin fills the room and sends your eyes rolling back into your head. “Never fuckin listen, do ya?”You call out his name and he grunts, his hand releasing its grip on your face to palm your tit through your t-shirt. His thumb brushes your hard nipple and you can’t help but moan. “Think ya got everything figured out.” 

“Like being a bad girl?” You hate how close you already are, the drag of his cock against your quivering walls has you out of breath despite the fact that you’re not doing any of the work here. “Can feel how bad you wanna cum.” Javi feels you tighten around him and he groans, squeezing the flesh of your thighs and bringing your face down to his for a kiss. 

He lets you lick into his mouth in a silent apology for your tone earlier, doesn’t make you chase his lips and offers them to you with grace. His steady thrusting makes it difficult for you to keep your lips on his but he doesn’t tease you– just continues to fuck into your wet heat till you breath hitches and your reeling forward onto his chest. 

Your hips stutter and your pussy flutters around his cock. Javi groans a string of low curses at the feeling of your cunt milking him. You go dumb and dizzy for a few seconds, your whole body on fire as you ride out your high– prolonged by the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you. A ragged moan escapes your lips as you feel him paint your insides with his hot spend, the aftershocks seizing your body as the two of you simultaneously come down from your high. 

Your chests rise and fall against one another, and Javi moves your legs across his lap so your thighs can catch some respite from the strain of bouncing on his cock. You can’t help but wince when you feel his spend drip onto your thighs. He reaches between your legs and swipes the cut of your pussy, then brings his fingers to your lips and you open them– sucking on his digits gently. Your eyes flutter closed and he pulls his digits from your mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of your nose and you rest your head back against his shoulder. 

There's a few more beats of silence. There's a tension, but not enough for you to peel yourself away from his hold. In fact he's the one to shift under you, you take his place on the armchair and watch as he makes his way towards the bathroom. You glance towards the coffee table and spot the contents of the file. The title reads “Employment Contract: Attache for The United States Federal Drug Enforcement Agency in Colombia.” 

Javier stops in front of the door, he peels his shirt off, and doesn’t turn your way as he speaks. 

“Never mean ya’ any harm, baby Bun.. Just lookin’ out for ya’.” 

— 

Lost inside

Adorable illusion and I cannot hide

I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside

We coulda made it cruising, yeah

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

La, da, da, la, la, la, la, la, la, la

Yeah, riding high on love's true bluish light

Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed!! Remember, again very morally dubious and borderline unhealthy relationship here. We are dealing with it in the realm of fiction! Thank you to everyone who comments and engages with my work you keep me writing!! Please let me know what you think!! 💗

[secretly-tumb1r]

Roadtrip - hotch x reader part 2

part one

summary: when hotch finally sheds his stubbornness, he decides to drive back to Quantico from New York, in an attempt to rest his punctured eardrum. You couldn’t leave him without company, so you join him.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (hotch in his late 40s reader in her late 20s), unprotected sex (p in v) oral (fem receiving), no mentions of haley

a/u: thank you guys so much for the support on the first part of this, you’re all so so sweet💞 i truly hope you enjoy this part too💞 xoxo

masterlist

You’ve kissed people before, but never like Aaron. It was almost like you had been starved of his taste, and him of yours. The kiss was so rough and angry, angry at the fact you didn’t do this earlier. If you knew it would be this good, you would’ve jumped his bones the minute you saw him.

There was no doubt he was more experienced than you, he was a lot older too, but right now, you were both just as starved and as messy and impatient as the other.

The kiss was so impactful, you could feel your arousal start to pool in your panties. Looking for any sort of relief, you start grinding on his crotch, giving you easy access to it since you were straddling him while he was laying down. You could feel him get harder by the second and that only made you moan in his mouth.

He gently bit your lower lip as he moved down to kiss your jawline and lower to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you arch your back and drop your jaw in a silent moan.

His lips explored your body as they reached your covered breasts. Big hands cupped both your tits as both index and thumb fingers pinched and rolled your nipples.

“fuck a-aaron”

“i know baby i know”

“please please” you were a moaning mess above him. He flipped you on your back so now he was on top of you, a coy smirk plastered on his face.

“what is it baby hm? cmon use your words sweetie”

the pet names made you wetter (if that was even possible) you needed him now.

“please f-fuck me aaron”

he chuckled deeply, laughing at how desperate you were. His hands moved down from your breasts to your lower stomach. He lowered himself on the bed on his stomach as he began to kiss your inner thighs.

“awh poor baby” he rubbed a finger on your clothed cunt, arousal seeping through it. “so wet” he looks mesmerised by your glossy panties. “all this for me huh baby?” you shook your head frantically and moaned, giving him the answer he wanted.

“don’t worry sweetie i’ll make it better” his big fingers hooked around the hem of your panties as he ripped them off in a sudden movement, the cool air hitting your weeping cunt, making you clench around nothing.

He pecked your swollen clit, and looked up in your eyes to see your reaction. Your head was thrown back, your hair messy. A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead, your body already so hot even thought nothing had happened yet.

He ran his tongue up and down your slit, gaining a hiss from your throat. He groaned. “fuck honey, you taste amazing” He started flicking his tongue up and down, he was a starved man and this was his last mean. Suddenly he put his finger up to your lips “suck” you gladly took it in and swirled your tongue around the tip of his finger, he let out a shaky breath as your spit coated his finger. He took it out your mouth with a ‘pop’ and teased your entrance.

Just as you were about to complain he he inserted his finger in your cunt, knuckles deep. His fingers were far bigger from yours giving you a pleasure you were never able to give yourself.

“you think you can take another one baby?” you nodded frantically and a low chuckle escaped him. He stretched you open when he added another finger, pleasure building deep inside your stomach.

His head lowered to suck on your clit, his touch was addictive. “fuck- ‘m close!” he started to pump his fingers faster as he looked up at you making eye contact. He looked too pretty between your legs, hair messed up and nose up aganist your pelvic bone. You could come just at the sight. Your hand flew to his hair as you started grinding on his face. Suddenly you felt it. You let go all over his face.

When he came up, his face looked delicious soaked in your arousal. He licked his lips and fingers clean as he kissed you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself, “please aaron need you inside” you managed to croak out between kisses.

Your hands flew to his pants button, undoing it quickly. “someone’s eager” he laughed and you could only moan.

You could see his bulge through his boxers, he looked so big.

Your mouth watered at the sight as you pulled down his boxers, his cock springing out proudly, leaking with pre cum.

“lay down baby” his gentle voice awakened something inside you, and you couldn’t help but do as he said.

His lips found your neck again as he aligned his tip with your entrance making you tense up. “relax honey” his hand started circling your nipple.

He finally thrusted into you, letting you accommodate to his size. He was massive, bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with.

He started to move, picking out his pace, slow but steady. “aaron- faster please” you pleaded.

“oh you like it rough huh?” he cocked his eyebrow up. He flips you on your stomach pressing his large hand on your lower back to make your back arch.

You were a moaning mess. He rammed his cock in your pussy at an ungodly pace, hitting that spongy spot inside that made you mewl.

Aaron wasn’t the one to come quickly, but your sweet noises accompanied by the noises your sweet pussy was making around his cock was like a symphony, music to his ears.

His hands dug into your hips so hard he was sure it would leave marks. He wanted that. He wanted to mask you as his.

His strong hand moved to your front where he started circling your clit making you moan even louder.

“fu- aaron yes god! i’m gonna c-“ you interrupted yourself with pornographic moans.

“cmon baby let it go, make a mess on my cock.”

that was all you needed. You were sure you’d never had a better orgasm before, your pussy clenched around his cock making him cross the finish line too, you could feel thick spurts of come pairing your walls.

Aaron pulled out mesmerised by the mixture of your cums together. Two of his fingers collected the dripping come and pushing it back inside, groaning loudly. The overstimulation make you whinge.

After Aaron had cleaned you up and made you go to the bathroom (reid had told him about the dangers of utis after sex), you found yourselves cuddled in eachothers arms.

Your soft breathing acting like a sleeping pill for Aaron, and he was sure this was the best nights sleep he’s had in a while.

It became a problem that he tasted you because now he would never let you go.

OH MY GOD GUYS!! this was so hard to write😭 i love reading smut but writing it, not so much!! i gross myself out💔 HOPE YOU LOVED THIS PART please lmk down in the comments I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCHHH💞💞 xoxo

@mrs-ssa-hotch

[justjams2003]

The Saltiness of Flesh- 2

Pairing: 1968!Elvis Presley x fem!reader

Summary: After Elvis' divorce fell through and the constant non-stop touring, he finally gets a moment alone on the beach. He finds a doll, shy and almost stand-offish and things suddenly bloom between them.

Warnings: Absolutely no hate to Priscilla, I love her so much, she is mother <3 In this story, they got engaged but broke up before they got married. Barely legal reader, flirting, talk of brattiness, spanking, manual drive (I know that sacres Americans) I would say grooming but she's 18 so not? 14-year age gap. Talk of being middle-class.

Word count: 2,2k+ unedited

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @luvcsbn

Taglist: @marvelobsessed134 @atleastpleasetelephone @i5uckersblog @i-r-i-n-a-a

Part 1

You regret now not packing anything fancy for your trip, besides your church clothes. And now as you sit on the front porch of your grandpa’s old rusty beach house. You're starting to regret even more wearing said church clothes. Watching some of the girls pass by and suddenly feeling very frumpy. And even more girlies than you wanted, looking down at your white Mary-Jane heels. 

And once again the terrible feeling of repentance comes over you when you see a car much fancier than you’ve seen back in Utah show up next to the little white fence. And that feeling gut punches you even worse when the handsome Mister Presley climbs out of the fancy car in a fancier, more expensive suit. 

Blue like the sky and the sea and the birds and his eyes. And it makes his frame look so much bigger and his lips much poutier and oh no the sin has you. You’re quick to stand up when he opens the rickety fence and walks up to the steps. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long, little lady.” He speaks and makes your knees weak. 

You can hear your mother scolding you for biting your lip. ‘Stop fidgeting!’ She echos in the back of your head and the teenager in you wants to groan. You shake your head no, lying since you’ve been ready since 9 o’clock this morning. Anxiety running laps around in your head. “Well, I’m glad.” His voice is even sweeter than you remember.  

He reaches out for you. Taking your soft upper arm into his large hand, covered by the leather of the jacket he borrowed you. “You look mighty fine.” He says, those tantalizing blue eyes taking all of you in. You know you’re red by the way your face feels hot. “Oh, thanks, I-uh, didn’ exsactly plan a-uh date w’en I was packin’.” You mumble cursing your accent for making you sound like a true Utahn. Not cool. 

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. His other hand is on his lips, as if he’s stopping himself from saying more than he really should. “This is, uh, this is just fine, youngin.” He speaks and when he has a Southern accent it makes you feel all gooey inside. “This is just fine...” He repeats, guiding you to his fancy car. 

You feel out of place in between the expensive leather and millions of buttons that your grandpa’s old pickup truck doesn’t have. And you feel much smaller than you believe yourself to be when he sits down in the driver's seat. His thighs are spread out in that suit and he has the seat pushed back so far that he looks so comfortable to be driving. 

“You can relax, youngin’, I promise you ain’t gon’ break nothin’. And hell if you do it ain’t the end of the world, I probably won’t even notice.” He assures you with this gentle smile. And you have to look up at him as if he is a god speaking his word down to you. You’ve been trained so well to listen to the man in church and you’re eager to be given a guide to follow. 

“Okay, Mister Presley.” He groans and you can’t help but watch as his strong leg presses down on the clutch and changes gears. You’re half in awe when he so easily pushes down the car’s handbrake since you yourself can’t even get it down with two hands. Much to your own father’s disappointment. 

“Don’t call me that either. You make me sound old like my father. I ain’t that old yet...” He says, shifting into second gear and driving down the roads of California. “I’m sorry, Elvis...how old are yah anyways?” He stiffens slightly and now you’re kicking yourself. Again your mother screams in the back of your head for your manners. 

He grips the steering wheel and you're quick to mutter an apology. His eyes go wide and he shakes his head. Elvis’ hand is suddenly on your thigh when he comforts you. “No need to apologize, little one. I’m uh, 32.” Now you’re glad your birthday is so early in the year. 

His eyes give a worried glance over to you, his brows pluck together, and then back to the road. “I hope that’s not too old for yah?” You bite your lip and can feel the poke of skin against your tongue. “No, no, we’re uh, both adults ‘ere.” This does make him smile. “Good...good...” 

Then it’s silent between you two, you’re painfully aware of how much bigger his hand is on your thigh. “How’re you experiencin’ California so far?” You’re quick to answer this, having thought of it plenty. “It’s cold.” This does cause him to chuckle. “It’s summer, sweet thang.” You shrug your shoulders simply. 

“That’s why I didn’ pack any jackets. It’s much hotter back home and I miss that...and the food. Grandpa has been feedin' me nothin’ but the fish he caught...since I couldn’t catch anythin’.” Your mother’s voice echoes again, ‘Stop rambling!’ You look away, blushing. “I’m sorry, I’m ramblin’.” Again he smiles, shaking his head. 

“No, no, it’s alright, darlin’. I like listenin’ to yah speak.” He explains, then turns his signal on. “If you’re tired o’ fish, I’ll take yah to the best burger place I know.” You can’t help but smile, the thought sounds fantastic. A nice big, juicy, messy burger. 

A cute diner, classic sixties. Red and white stripes with checkered black and white floors. The doorbell rings, and everyone raises their head. Inspecting him, there is no air to breathe here because all must be spared for him and only him. A clumsy waiter, with weak knees stumbles towards the two. “H-hi, Mr Presley, I'm uh, Stacy, I'll be your waiter today.” 

Her brows pluck together, but not Stacy’s, no, she's far too excited to ever be worried to ever be confused. And as the red plastic cushion caves under the weight of the superstar, the furrow stays. “What's got yah all confused, yittle one?” His voice seems to smooth the sharp plastic poking in her back. “Does everyone but me know who you are?” 

A hearty chuckle, one that somehow spans a smile on anyone nearby’s face. “I'm surprised you don't know, yittle one.” The plastic laminate of the tabletop suddenly seems very interesting. “This is my first time out o’ my farm.” He leans back, and the plastic squeaks. His thighs spread out across the tacky red, thick like a tree stump you could easily climb. 

His arms rest on the back of the cushion seat. His first buttons open, shoving the curly hair on his chest. And he smirks, knowing that while the mind is innocent, the body easily wanders and gazes over. “That's alright, sweet thang. I like it like that.” Her head tilts to the side, his hips shift. “Why?” 

Elvis shrugs his wide shoulders. “Means yah like me, and not what the idea of me.” He's sure she's able to hear his heartbeat, or maybe she can't because she doesn't say anything. Instead just looks away, at the beach not far from the diner. “Yah like the beach?” 

He asks because he'll gladly move to the coast if that's what it has to take to have her. “I do…” Her answer is more forlorn and not really all there. “This is my first time seein’ it…I wish my mama and papa could've come wit’. I feel…lost here.” She's practically begging for a guiding hand like him. ”Lost?” Elvis asks as if he doesn’t know that it’s him she’s yearning for.  

“This place ‘s so big and nobody really...sees you here.” She brings her hands forward, picking at the cuticle of her nail and he doesn’t like that. He too leans forward, small hands enveloped by much bigger ones. Chunky golden rings contrast against the delicacy of her soft hands. “I see you.” A small smile, one that doesn’t believe, plays on her features. 

And then a shrug, “I feel you see me more than anyone else ever has...is that crazy to say to someone you just met?” He knows exactly what she means because when he looks at her he sees everything he’s always wanted. Everything that he can so easily make her to be. He knows deep down that she doesn’t want to work and she’s clearly far too shy for others. 

He can tell it could so easily be just him for her. “Not at all.” 

Nibble fingers pick at the small imperfections of rings too expensive to have imperfections. With jewels bigger than her fingernails and shinier than sunlight. “Yah like my rings, yittle one?” With a curt nod, he slides one off his finger and then onto hers. But it doesn’t fit, the ring is too big and just sort of hangs. “I’ll have one made for yah.” 

Her eyes are quick to meet his, wide and shocked, and her eyelashes blink rapidly. “What?” Elvis’ iconic smirk shows. “Yah heard me.” Her jaw hangs slack, “You will not.” The same smirk stays. “An’ why not?” Her plump bottom lip gets captured between her teeth before being let go again when she speaks. “It’s too much.” There is no such thing as too much for Elvis Presley. 

“Call it a gift.” Her eyes strangely avoid his, looking back down at the flashing gold. “Gifts like that mean somethin’ much more serious than uh summer fling.” He almost growls at the thought of her just being a mere blip in his life. No, she needs to be here and now and always. “An’ if I want somethin’ more than a summer fling?”  

She sighs, letting go of his hands. She leans back against the plastic red cushion seat, her arms crossed. Suddenly the beach is once again much more interesting than he is. “It won’ work. I ain’t what yah want.” He doesn’t like this, this sudden defiance. He’s done no wrong. Only ever wanted to give her a gift and now she’s gone all pouty. Even denying him his right to see her pretty face. 

“Stop bein’ such a brat about this. You’ll let me do this for yah and stop bein’ all pouty about it too.” What on earth is he doing to you? All cheeky quips and snappy returns fall from your body like a snake sheds. Revealing only a vulnerable little girl who squeezes her thighs together, his words making her feel...hot... 

He does see, he does instantly see when she shifts in her seat and her ears go pink. Elvis knows well what this little squirm means, but it doesn’t seem like you do? “I’m not a brat.” He loves this, “Oh, yougin’, you’ve been all bratty since we met. Huffin’ and puffin’, rolling your eyes. I won’t stand this attitude much longer, yittle girl.” 

Now that really does get her going, cheeks as red as a tomato and he can see the lust behind her eyes. He hasn’t once stopped grinning. “You’re not my father...though you’re certainly old enough tah be.” He can’t help but laugh at her audacity. While it most definitely is true, he didn’t think she’d have the guts to say something like that. 

“Uh sure am yougin’. Older, bigger, stronger...I’ll toss you over my knee and give you a good old-fashioned spanking if you keep this up. Rollin’ your eyes at me like I’m your frien’, I’ll be dead before I have a brat disrespect me like that...” He mumbles the last part but you most definitely heard all of it. Where on earth did that come from? And why do you suddenly feel like you’re sitting on volcanic rocks? 

Everything’s hot, far too hot. And the way that he grins, knowing just how you feel makes you feel almost nauseously needy with a feeling an innocent one like you doesn’t have a name for. But Elvis knows lust when he sees it. And he likes seeing you all messy. Not knowing up or down and just him. 

“What’s all this blushin’ for? Getting all worked up over me bein’ all big an’ bossy?” The only sound that escapes the 18-year-old, is a giggle that she doesn’t quite know where it comes from. The type you do when your crush looks at you in the halls, all school girl. She bites down on her knuckle, hoping it doesn’t happen again.  

“Yah like the idea o’ me tossin’ yah over my knee? ‘Cause I’ll do it, ain’t nothin’ to laugh about.” A deep shudder escapes you, this...this is wrong. So very wrong. No man that isn’t your father should ever be speaking to you like that...right? And this must be an incredible amount of shame that you’re feeling, that’s why you’re all hot and bothered, right?  

As if you’re a dog panting, trying to cool yourself off, you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I think, I uh, need tah go freshen up.” He again spreads his legs as he leans back. Now both his arms are on the backrest, his shirt lifts slightly and he does catch the little lady looking. “That’s alright, sweet girl, you go do that.” 

And as if you were waiting for him to grant permission, you lift your little bum like a good girl and b-line it for the little ladies' room. And just then, Elvis realises he hasn’t thought about her once... 

So this one might not be as good as the last part, but part 3 is going to be so delicious (smut), I pinky promise.

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, just ask!

[captain039]

The 2029

Old man Logan x reader

Warnings: AOB dynamics, age gap, angst, swearing, mutants, intimacy, eventual smut, claiming, heats, ruts, needles, drug usage, dystopian world, plus size reader

Mutation: Telekinesis, energy manipulation, telepathy

The wards alarm wakes you. The sound blaring and ear piercing, you hear the loud sound of boots and your door opening.

“Up omega 332” the guard says and you’re forced out your bed. You keep your back to them as they inject your neck making you bite your inner cheek. You feel your powers die with it like they were never there. You force your body to relax so the guard knows it works. He leaves your door closing heavily and the lock clicking. You rub the small spot on your neck where the needle went in.

“All omegas are required to wear outfit 3 for presentation today” the female voice rings out over the PA system and you sigh heading to the small closest. You grab the outfit, a tight white tank top, white underwear, white bra and nothing else. You put it on feeling uncomfortable in it already, it sticks to your skin the material isn’t soft either. You brush your hair and put in a pony tail as instructed before brushing your teeth and taking the enhancers with the breakfast slid through your door flap. You hate how they make you feel, your mind goes hazy everything that makes an omega gets enhanced by ten times, scent, submission, weakness….

You hate it.

When you’re lined up with the other omegas you hate the almost attacking smells from the alphas in the other room. You scrunch up your nose slightly before a small frown is on your face. You take a subtle breath finding one scent sticking out from the others, mutant, older. You shake your head a bit as the doors open your body going rigid. Though there’s a barrier between you and them you don’t feel any less safe. The roaming eyes heavy gazes, heavy scents alphas close to rut.

This world was a fucked up place. Omegas forced into wards made perfect for breeding, taught how to be a proper omega since presentation. Alphas close to rut are brought in if they aren’t mated, made to pick an omega so they don’t cause havoc on the street, as time went on so did alphas feral state, when it seemed to be getting better four years ago turned into something worse, alphas began to kill their mates from brutality, they’d go on a rampage and not stopped unless put down. So the government sought to protect the betas seeing as they take up most the population while the alphas and omegas were forced into a new heavily caged way of life, though alphas still lived there life as normal they were watched heavily, tracked as well.

You keep your head down knowing that you’re most likely not to get chosen. A bonus if you think about it, you’ve always been a bigger woman your whole life no matter what sort of diet and forced exercise they made you do, you stayed the same, you’ve got muscles, your body’s healthy too, you have to be here other wise you get sent to the other facility, the one where the ‘useless’ omegas go.

You catch the mutants scent again but don’t dare look up. All mutants have been marked and taken control of as well with the changes, a mutant alpha on the loose was worse than a human, one caused a whole town to go extinct. So they forced the omega and alpha mutants to get a weekly injection to dull their powers and branded with a small M on the back of the neck.

“Exit” the automated voice calls and you follow the line back to where the rooms are and head to yours. You let out a sigh of relief thankful that’s over ready to claw this damn singlet off.

“Omega 332 you have been chosen” the automated voice makes you freeze, panic running through your whole being.

“If you do not calm down you will be injected with an easer” the voice adds and you take deep breaths calming your heart, you hated those too, an Easer something to make you high and easy. Your door opens and your afraid too look around till you catch the mutants scent. You take a small breath his scent not unpleasant like the others, its laced with Cigars and whiskey, somehow not harsh on your nose. You keep your back turned waiting for the alphas command.

He doesn’t speak though he grunts softly and sits down on the love seat in the corner of your room sighing softly. You’re confused as he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move either, you can see him out the corner of your eye but don’t look without permission.

“How can I serve alpha?” You ask.

“Jesus” he mutters voice deep and rough.

“Sit on the bed” he says, he doesn’t command or use his alpha tone but you listen anyway and sit down.

“Get comfortable” he grumbles and you shuffle so your backs against the wall and you sit comfortably. You see him now fully, he looks old, greyed hair, wrinkles, his eyes are closed and his head is leaned back showing him your throat. It’s strange for an alpha to do that but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s in a suit, no tie, a plain black jacket unbuttoned. He doesn’t speak, he just sits there and you’re highly confused, you can catch the slight smell of rut in his scent but it’s subtle. You’re unsure of what to do, fiddling with your hands silently cursing this shirt. You shuffle a bit trying to itch your back against the wall. The alpha lifts his head with a slightly raised eyebrow. You freeze forcing your eyes down.

“Something wrong with your shirt?” He aske quietly, you struggled with how to answer.

“It’s itchy, the fabric isn’t nice” you answer honestly expecting a backlash.

“Do you have other clothes?” He asks and you nod pointing to the white cupboard. He stands with a small sigh going to the cupboard with a limp. He opens it stares for a moment before pulling out your grey shirt and shorts.

“Here, these ones feel better” he hands them to you and nods before sitting down. You hold the clothes in your hands baffled at the gesture as he sits back down again.

“May I get off the bed to change?” You ask.

“Don’t have to ask” he shrugs.

“You’re the alpha I have to ask” you say.

“Right” he grumbled sighing.

“You can change in the bathroom” he says and you nod heading to the bathroom wondering why he picked you if he didn’t want to see you naked. You change and come back out.

“Is this ok alpha?” You ask.

“Just call me Logan kid” he sighs.

“I’m required to call you alpha” you say feeling more confused by him.

“Right, yes that’s ok you can sit down again” he grumbles out. You sit down again in the same spot happy to be out of those clothes.

That’s how your first meeting went with Logan. He didn’t do anything the whole time during his rut, he sat there took the meals provided, let you do what you wanted, well when he asked you to. He asked you what you liked and then asked you to do that. It was strange to say the least. He had a few showers you heard a few times of him relieving himself in the shower before he came back out and sat back on the chair. He hardly slept max two hours a night or during the day, the older alpha did nothing to like what you’ve been taught and told would happen. When he left you were confused for a while, wondering why the hell he didn’t do anything wondering if he didn’t like you or you weren’t a good omega. You’d asked more than once if he required anything but he got angry with a growl and shut you down so you never asked again. You’d never seen an alpha with so much restraint or maybe he genuinely didn’t have the urges due to his age.

It became a routine he’d come in for his ruts and you catch his scent in the other room your heart picking up before the automated voice said you’d been chosen before the alpha would come in and sit down. You got brave asked simple questions, how was his day, if he worked or not, he’d answer in short simple answers and you got that he wasn’t a talker, so you’d sit in silence, you learnt not to ask to do thing even though it went against every fibre of what was drilled into your head since your presentation. His scent was becoming familiar and you found yourself enjoying it, you found yourself sitting on the chair lying down so your nose was close to where his scent laid, left wondering how he’d act if he’d been younger or let all restraint go, he’d be rough you could tell by his exterior, the gruffness, hardness in his voice, he’s been through a lot you just don’t know what and it always left you wondering and wanting more.

Next part ->

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series) 

chapter six: 24

Pedro Pascal x plus size F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, swearing, age gap (24/14 years), descriptions of the female body, use of the word fat, descriptions of a bigger body (stretch marks, cellulite, rolls, etc.), descriptions of nudity, sexual themes. 

Please let me know if I missed anything! Warnings may change as the story progresses. 

chapter summary: y/n tells Pedro the truth. 

authors note: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little rough, but it's done lol. Also, what do you guys think about the length of the chapters? Do you want them longer, shorter, the same length? Let me know! I believe they're average 1.5-2k words as of now. Enjoy! :)

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“BITCH, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” 

You had spent the last thirty minutes catching Angie up on the newest details of your escapades with Pedro and all of your doubts that came with it. It has become really common for Angie and yourself to go weeks without seeing each other, only sending each other texts here and there or the two of you discussing work stuff when necessary. When both of your busy schedules finally aligned, the two of you immediately set up a ‘catch up and gossip’ sesh on your living room couch. 

“Please stop yelling. I’m one noise complaint away from being evicted because of you.” You sigh only half joking. 

“Sorry sorry. I’m just… okay wait let me gather my thoughts for a moment.” She takes a sip of her iced coffee and she's staring just past your head at the wall behind you. Your leg is bouncing at a record breaking pace. You told her everything, not skipping a single detail, and you were hoping whatever came out of Angie’s mouth next was positive. You weren’t exactly sure why you were so nervous to hear what she was going to say. Maybe you wanted some confirmation that what had been happening between you and Pedro wasn’t crazy, that you weren’t in over your head. 

Angie had always been better at relationships than you and understandably so. She was naturally beautiful, it baffled you how someone could even be born so blessed. She was about 5’4, with ginger hair that went down just past the middle of her back. She has this perfectly white smile that hid behind her perfectly plump lips with light freckles scattered along her cheeks and shoulders. Her loud and outgoing personality just solidified just how easily likable she was. You used to envy her but she was never competing with you. She was the kindest soul you had ever met and she stood beside you always. You knew whatever she said was probably what was best for you. She was the definition of a girl's girl. 

“Okay okay... so you’re telling me that he came to see you on his day off, the two of you messed around in your trailer, he asked you to come over, and the two of you didn’t fuck?” She says as she finally snaps back into reality. 

“Angie oh my fucking god… how many times do I have to tell you that we didn’t have sex.” You’re starting to feel hopeless. You had asked her for advice and shes done nothing but annoyingly ask if you and Pedro had fucked since the moment you mentioned that the two of you basically dry humped each other for a good five minutes in your trailer.  

“Can you please be serious for five minutes and actually help me? I’m freaking the fuck out. Everytime I’m with him all of the worrying goes away but once I’m alone it hits me like a fucking truck.” You’re begging her at this point to put her dating expertise to use. 

“Okay fine, I’m sorry.” She says sincerely and you let out a faint thank you. 

“So he said something about wanting to take you out?” 

“Yea, um, he mentioned it when he was asking me if I wanted to stay over. It wasn’t anything set in stone but he did mention like dating and stuff so I don't know…” You trail off, really unsure of everything. 

“I think you’re overthinking it babe. If he didn’t fuck you, he definitely respects you and wants to have something more with you, ya know?” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so. He’s a good one y/n, I can feel it in my bones.” You give her a small smile. 

“You should totally introduce me to him though so I can really double down on him.” She grabs your hands from your lap and looks you in the eyes. 

“It’s all going to be okay, okay? In the end, he's just a man y/n. Besides, we can jump his ass if he plays you.” She squeezes your hands and gives you a tough nod. 

“But that’s the thing Ang, he’s not just a man. He’s my older, insanely hot co-star, who still doesn’t even know just how young I am.” You huff and shove your face into your hands. 

“Y/n, you haven’t told him?” She’s giving you a look you’re not familiar with. 

“No…I tried but work stuff interrupted me and that was before he kissed me” 

“Hm… well I think you should for sure tell him sooner rather than later, but don’t worry about it too much, yea? I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

“OH fucking shit, fuck fuck fuck…HOLY SHIT..” 

Swears were flying from your mouth left and right as the wax lady ripped more and more wax off of you taking each hair follicle with it. With your intimacy training coming up soon, you had to prepare by being silky smooth on all body parts that have a chance of being on camera- which was basically your entire body for this shoot. You’ve been through this same process many times before but something about this felt different. You knew that this project was bigger than anything you had ever done before but somehow you being naked on camera for millions to see wasn’t your biggest fear right now. 

Once your appointment was over and there wasn’t a hair left on your body, you were speed walking home. For some reason you always convince yourself to walk to the wax studio due to the close proximity to your apartment, but you always regretted it once your skin was begging for some sort of soothing distraction from the pain. Even with the loose fit of the skirt you were wearing, commando at that, you could still feel the irritation growing stronger. Your thighs were beginning to rub together in a way in which you knew you'd have to slather vaseline between your legs just to prevent any further chafing. 

After your long ass hike (a ten minute walk) through the depths of hell (it was 80 degrees with a breeze), you finally made it home. You walked straight into your bathroom, stripped, and hopped into a cold shower. You scrubbed your body with a vanilla and coconut body wash, being extra careful when you got closer to your fresh brazilian wax, and washed your hair. When you finished showering, you lotioned up, dried your hair, and laid down in your bed to relax. 

You planned on bedrotting and watching tik tok for the rest of the day but you couldn’t shake the thought of what Angie had told you earlier today. 

Sooner rather than later…

*hey! I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime soon? :) 

You sent the text and threw your phone across your bed. It’s been a few days since you slept over at his house. After you agreed to stay, he offered the guest room, but with all of your courage -mostly sleepiness,  you asked to sleep with him. The next morning you were wrapped in his arms, soft snores in your ear. His hand was holding yours and you laid there memorizing each crinkle of his knuckles, staring at the tattoo that sat between the webbing of his thumb and index finger. You kept trying to imagine how he looked when he was sleeping, wondering if he had a peaceful look to him or if the wrinkles in his face relaxed. Not being able to hold off any longer, you turned over so your mind wouldn’t have to imagine anymore. You were right. He looked like the definition of peace. His hair was a mess, his mouth ajar, eyelashes resting beautifully on the underneath of his eyes. Pedro was the most handsome man you had ever seen, you were sure that you could have fallen in love with him right then and there. 

Pedro:

*Hey baby. I’m done filming around 9 tonight. I can come pick you up and we can grab some food. 

*Sound good? 

You:

*sounds good. see you later <3

Another late night with Pedro. You’d unconsciously have been reserving nights just for him. When the sun was up, you worked, saw friends, handled whatever business that needed to be dealt with, but the night was strictly for him. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was purposeful or completely accidental that the two of you seemed to meet when the moon was out. The next few hours leading up to seeing Pedro would be hell, you were certain of it. Knowing that everything that has built over such a short time period could be washed away and you would have to awkwardly deal with him on set, somehow ignoring the strong feelings that you were beginning to hold for him. You were really hoping that Angie was right. That he would somehow be totally cool with the whole 24 year age gap thing, but you knew deep down that just wasn’t likely. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

It was 9:30 and you were pacing around your living room waiting for any sign of Pedro. You’ve been anxious all evening and now that the time to see him has come, you weren’t ready at all. A soft knock on your door makes you come to a halt. Walking over to the door, you peer through the peephole to see Pedro- who looks so good it makes your jaw drop. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door. 

“Hey sweetheart.” He greets, smile beaming. You open the door wider, allowing him to step inside. 

“Hi..” Your voice comes out softer than you intended, anxiety seeping through your body. “Uh, let me just grab some shoes and my bag then we can head out.” You walk towards a small coat closet to grab your checkered vans. “You can take a seat if you want, I'll be right back.” He gave you a nod and walked over to the papasan chair that sits in the far corner of your living room. Meanwhile, you were in your room freaking out. Seeing him was a hard slap in the face. You knew you had to tell him tonight before feelings developed and someone got hurt, but who's to say that won’t already happen tonight. 

You felt like shit and you definitely looked it. Grabbing a small purse, you spray some perfume on and make your way back to the living room. 

“Ready to go?” You ask, putting on a small smile, hoping Pedro couldn’t see through it. He returns the smile and stands up. The two of you make your way to his car, stopping once outside to lock your door. 

“So, what’re you hungry for?” Pedro asks while putting his seat belt on, you do the same. 

“Whatever is fine with me, I'm not too picky.” 

You ended up grabbing some mcdonalds and parking in some random parking lot to eat and talk. He was being so sweet to you, complimenting you every few minutes, a smile never leaving his face. He was truly your dream guy, he was everything you could ever want. You were terrified that you were going to lose it all. You hadn’t been completely yourself all night and Pedro was starting to catch on. 

“You okay baby? You seem a little off.” He’s looking at you, eyes filled with concern. You don’t answer him right away. You’re trying to find the best way to go about telling him. You were 24 but you were an adult and you hated that this age gap was such a big deal. You had never been into the idea of dating an older man but then Pedro came around and changed everything. For you, it wasn’t a life changing idea, but for Pedro, it could very well be career ending. If he was seen with you and people found out just how young you were compared to him. This whole relationship, or whatever it is, was doomed from the start. Your leg is bouncing, a regular occurrence around Pedro it seems. 

“P…I need to tell you something.” You’re looking down at your hands, unable to look him in his eyes. 

“What is it sweet girl? You can tell me anything.” His voice is filled with nothing but sincerity and you can physically feel pain from your heart slowly breaking. 

“I’m not actually 35…” You’re still not looking at him, silence fills the air. You’re waiting for him to say something but he never does. You look up and his expression is unreadable. 

“Okay…How old are you then?” From the sound of his voice, you can tell that he is confused. 

“I’m 24.” You’re looking in his eyes searching for any rapid change of emotion. Your leg is still rapidly bouncing, heart pounding. 

“What?” 

“I’m 24, well i’ll be 25 soon but yea…” 

“Jesus fucking christ y/n…” He’s shaking his head and running his hand over the slight stubble coming in on his chin. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. You sounded so pathetic right now, but it’s all you could muster up. 

“I’m not mad.” He’s staring at you. Relief flows through your body and you start to relax. 

“Why did you lie to me?” His voice is raised slightly causing you to wince slightly. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you P, I swear. My um…my agent, Angie, lied about my age to book the audition. It wasn’t something I did intentionally, well it wasn’t something I did at all.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” A look of hurt present on his face. 

“I just never thought to bring it up. I mean we were just hanging out then you kissed me and everything changed. I tried to tell you at the skating rink but we had to head to the floor and I swear I've been trying to find a way to tell you but I was so scared to ruin whatever we have going on here. I really like you pedro…”  

“I really like you too y/n, but you’re so fucking young. I mean I’m about to be 50, I can’t be screwing around with a 24 year old.” 

Your heart drops. You can feel the tears starting to well up before a few fall against your will. 

“I’m sorry.” You're looking down again, trying to hide your tears from Pedro. 

“I should get you home.” He sighs and starts the car. 

The drive back to your apartment was quick but painfully awkward. You faced the window the entire time, letting your tears fall freely. When he pulled into the parking lot, the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. You were afraid to leave the car, afraid that this might be the last time you get to be with him outside of work. 

“What does this mean for us?” You whisper, turning to look at him. He has his right hand still sitting on the steering wheel, while his left hand is sitting on his thigh, fingers tapping. 

“I don’t know y/n.” He’s still not looking at you, face staring out the front windshield. 

y/n.  No baby, no sweetheart or sweet girl, just your name. 

“Okay. Well um… thanks for dinner. I’ll see you on set.” Your voice betrays you, cracking on your last words towards him. He gives you a slight nod. You get out of the car and make your way to your apartment. Once inside, you kicked off your shoes and walked slowly to your room. Collapsing onto the bed, you let out a sob, all of the emotions you had been holding in finally being let free. You felt heart broken. For once you had the perfect man who saw past your weight, thought you were beautiful, and enjoyed your time. But it didn’t matter now. It was all ruined because of some stupid lie to get an audition for some stupid movie that has a stupid fucking title. You were starting to feel more angry than sad. Angry that you had even got the part in the first place, angry that Pedro asked you to hang out with him, angry that he had kissed you. If the two of you could have been professional and just be costars, your heart wouldn’t be breaking into a million pieces. Life was so fucking unfair. 

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series tag list: @nuetralcolorsenthusiast, @kungfucapslock, @hansilandgretel, @ashleyfilm, @titabel, @fifitheragertot

*If you wish to be added to the tag list, leave a comment on this post letting me know! <3

[the-ace-with-spades]

Tw implied mpreg but it started with the idea of having hangster daughter be a matchmaker for her dumb dads and escalated with a whole backstory of how it got to that

        Jake and Bradley meet when they're younger — Bradley just found out Mav pulled his papers and is taking a gap year traveling around and Jake is in his last year in high school when a guy from Cali starts working in his mama's diner. (for the purpose of this idea, the age gap between them is 1, max 2 years). They become close pretty quickly and bond over their goal to enter the USNA/become naval aviators. Soon, they started dating — it was the burn bright and fast romance type but it was genuine.

        Come the time when the USNA acceptance letters come and they both get in. They've been together over nine months and had talked about all the things they wanted to accomplish in USNA and in the Navy and so when Bradley finds out he's pregnant, he can't make himself tell Jake — he was so excited about the academy, already basically had his whole life planned, and there was no place in it for teenage pregnancy. He likes to think that Jake would try to be there for them (and therefore resign from USNA since he wouldn't be able to visit or work in the academy) but he's also scared he wouldn't. So he doesn't tell him.

        Bradley pretends he's changed his mind, that he's going to enter NROTC and they're going to meet in the pre-flight pipeline, and goes to college to his second choice (UVA) and completely cuts contact with Jake despite the promise. Clean break so Jake can live the life they both dreamed about. Jake turns the devastation into anger but he never really moves on.

       Bradley is studying at UVA on partial scholarship, working two part-time jobs, and has everything planned — due date in the winter break, two weeks off, and then back to work and school. Ice and Mav realize he didn’t go to USNA mid autumn semester — Mav hoped them not interfering with the re-admission would be like an olive branch and Bradley’d forgive him. One way or another, they find out where he is — the baby is born the day they visit his apartment, a good few weeks early.

        Shit gets complicated, Bradley is off school and off work for a few weeks, gets kicked out of both, basically. Mav interferes, Bradley flies to California with them as soon as he and his daughter are fit, and Bradley starts working part-time again, waiting to return to college in the next year.

        Bradley does eventually become a naval aviator, with major help from Mav and Ice. He gets into college close to home and enters NROTC while Mav and Ice take care of his daughter, Angel, whenever he needs to go and promise to take her in whenever he'd need to be deployed in the future. She stays mostly with Ice when he’s deployed, often sitting in his office and going to meetings with him.

        Fast forward to years later, Jake finds out Bradley is a naval aviator after all when they meet at Top Gun (he’s a couple of years ahead in his career than Bradley). He's hoping that he can get some explanation on the radio silence years before and the whole romance thing between them can be renewed. He finds out Bradley has a kid first, before they can talk, and he assumes he's moved on with someone who isn't Jake and has a kid with them as well. Cue Jake being a bigger ass than usual, basically giving Bradley the cold shoulder and cutting any of Bradley's attempts to talk (and taste the waters) short. Bradley assumes it's better the way it is and that his decision all those years ago was right — Jake has the life he wants.

       When they meet at Top Gun again, not much changes. Jake still has a bit of a grudge but that day at the Hard Deck, Bradley isn't there and when the aviators are chatting, Nat mentions he was deployed and went straight to his daughter when he landed and isn't leaving her the whole day. And Jake makes some sort of remark about how Bradley's kid and partner must be happy about the special detachment and Nat just looks at him weird like, you know Bradley doesn't have a partner, never has, he's been a single parent for years. Jake feels, well, dumb, but he still hasn't figured out that he's the baby daddy and all, he just thinks he could've been a step dad all those years he's thought Bradley had someone.

        In the end, Bradley tells him the night before the mission. They're on the carrier and Bradley visits his cabin and they sit down on Jake's bunk and have a talk. And Bradley tells him that he has a daughter, she'll be twelve in November, her name is Angelica but lately she's been telling everyone to call her Angie, that Bradley didn't tell him because he didn't want to mess up his plans and dreams for life. That if he doesn't come back, he wants him to know her and have a chance to be her dad.

[Now, the part that was the first bit that came into my mind.]

       Things are awkward between them after the mission. Jake meets Angie and it's not okay straight away (she's got questions, why wasn't he there all those years, why did Bradley not tell him, what will he do now). Things are even more awkward when she asks if this means he's Bradley's boyfriend now and he answers yes, while Bradley says no. And logically, yes, they haven't talked about it and it's been twelve years and he assumed. But this is Bradley and they have a daughter together.

        Slowly, they try to acclimate to the situation. First, Bradley goes to all the meet-ups Jake has with Angie, mostly because while he trusts Jake, he knows Angie is a bit wary and he wants her to be comfortable, so they go as a three or spend the time in Bradley’s house. Sure, it’s not all straightforward, Angie is a bit angry with Bradley and it takes some mitigating from Jake (and self-restraint, because Jake is kinda pissed with Bradley as well but he doesn’t want it to affect Angie), but once she forgives him, she starts being carefully enthusiastic about having another dad, and it feels like a family. It’s still summer break so they go to the beach, every tourist spot imaginable, and Angie is currently on a marine biology kick so they go anywhere that has related topics. Jake takes her flying, Bradley stays on the ground, and when Angie says it was fun and she wants to do it again, Jake realizes Bradley let him be the first person to take her up in the air. On the lazier, hotter evenings, they stay inside with multitudes of fans running and Bradley making them gazpacho and sundaes, playing board games and cards.

       And you know, there comes a time when Jake is checking that Angie has everything she needs to go to the aquarium and they are at the porch and Bradley gives Angie a kiss and says he’ll see them later and Jake realizes he’s not going. You know, I thought you guys are ready to go alone, just the two of you. Isn’t this what you told me, Angel? And sure enough, Angie agrees that she is okay to go with Jake but you can see she gets really quiet once they get into the car. And Jake is all like, you know we don’t have to go alone if you don’t want to. And she denies it but Jake prods and prods until she admits she heard her grandpa talk to daddy about how he can use the free time to date again. And obviously, Jake is a bit curious so she talks to him about the people who Bradley dated in the past twelve years on the way to the aquarium, and Jake doesn’t get the full picture (she only talks about 3 people and there’s no way it’s all) and has this irrational fear that Bradley is on a date the whole time they’re out. Obviously there’s no date (Angie didn’t hear the part where Mav was making fun of how the only person Bradley wants to date will be on daddy-daughter date…) and when they come back, Bradley is elbows deep in weeding the garden. They have some slushies together and both he and Angie breathe easier but Jake doesn’t stop being kinda bothered that Bradley no longer goes with him and Angie.

Why are you and daddy not together? Do you not like him like that anymore? And how do you explain it all to a kid? Jake tries to go through with the kid-friendly parents don’t have to be together to love their kid and be friendly and she’s like, I’m twelve not five, I know that. So he just tells her the truth, that he likes her daddy very much but sometimes things get complicated and he doesn’t want Bradley to feel pressured. But he’s really happy when you’re around?

The first time Angie calls him dad without prompting/a minute of hesitation, they’re talking about this again when he’s taking her to the cinema at the mall. She asks again why don’t you just ask him out? Daddy always says people need to use their words if they want something and it’s on point and endearing, but he just tries to brush it off and tell her he and Bradley just met again and it’ll take some time. You need to put the work in, dad is what she tell him, all cheeky. I’ll help you.

(Jake doesn’t know this, but any chance she has, she’s prodding Bradley about this as well. And sure, Bradley has a lot of leftover feeling for Jake, but he thinks it’s better if he doesn’t act on them — he still feels guilty about disappearing and he feels like Jake was just a bit overwhelmed at the beginning and that’s why he wanted to jump in where they left. Now that they cooled off and the whole co-parenting thing is working, he’s surely calmed down on the idea. )

Next time Jake takes Angie out to buy her some new shoes for school, they’re all done when she decides, we’re going to buy stuff for your date with daddy. And sure enough, she’s got a whole plan — he needs to buy nicer clothes (You can’t wear another plaid shirt, dad) and get Bradley a gift and some flowers (he likes sunflowers but they never grow right in our garden) and tells Jake he needs to buy a picnic basket and get some nice food when she tells him to.

It’s all set in motion, by Angie. She texts Jake to come and pick her up (daddy will think we’re going to the beach) and take her to Mav’s, where she will stay the night when Jake will put the work in.

He doesn’t believe he’s got himself talked into this by a twelve year old, but sure enough, an hour after he picked Angie up, he’s back at Bradley’s house, sunflowers and Bradley’s favorite chocolates in hand, full picnic basket in his car. And sure enough, when Bradley opens the door, all doubt just disappears.

They go on a date. They talk. Jake takes Bradley back home and Bradley asks him if he wants to stay the night. Things get rekindled.

He stays the night and just kinda, well, never leaves.

(Meanwhile, Angie and Mav make a whole presentation about how this means she should either get a baby sister or a puppy. You know, because if Jake moves in with them, that means they will have the time and energy and the extra helping hands for either — maybe even both. And Mav would love a second grandkid or a puppy, he’s not picky, especially now that he’s retired.)

[joelsgirl]

Maybe Din making/gifting his s/o a collar made from a piece of his armor? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Muse: Din Djarin Content Warnings: Age Gap, Size Difference, Din makes a collar instead of an engagement ring, reference to smut, fluff, No Use of Y/N A/N: Set post s3 finale in his gorgeous home. He has the crest, the star fighter and his house. // @dreamsofmandalore + Want to see more? I’d love to see some requests, here!

Leaning against the door jam, he couldn't stop watching you. You were wearing his shirt, one of the black long sleeve shirts he wore under his armour.

It reached mid thigh, draped over your perfect body, making you look like the goddess you were. You always wore his clothes, especially when it was just the two of you at home.

It was his favourite thing, loved how big they were on your petite frame, loved that smile you wore whenever you hugged yourself in them, inhaling the scent of him whenever you thought he wasn't looking.

Delicate hands were chopping the vegetables as you prepared dinner for you both, like you had every night since bringing you home. Oh how the mighty have fallen; all the grand plans he'd had when he first took you, gone… replaced by something better, replaced by… a life he'd always dreamed of.

You were nothing but a bounty, not meant to be more than cargo he'd released for payment... didn't stay that way. All it had taken was one look in your eyes, and he was gone.

You'd been back a few weeks and honestly, he couldn't get enough of you. Fucking you every day, multiple times, hands always on you, holding you… watching as you move about, so simple, so perfect. It was no different on the crest, you'd spent your days impaled on his cock in between missions. Thankfully the bed was bigger here.

Shifting the ring of metal from one hand to the other, he pulled off the jam. Straightening his spine before closing the distance between you. Not stopping until your back was pressed against his chest, your hips pinned against the counter.

You were facing the window overlooking the small stream outside the kitchen.

He slipped the choker around your slender throat, securing it at the back and locking it in place before sliding his hands down your sides, wrapping them around the front of you. Holding you tight against him as his head dipped to press a kiss to the throat, right above the beskar collar.

He wasn't one for engagement rings, or asking permission to take what was his… but this collar meant it all. More of a sign that you belonged to him than anything else he could provide.

The choker forged by his own hand, a piece of his armor, remade.

The mudhorn stamped in the center, a mark of his clan. That you belonged to it. To him... "Mine…"

[talesofadragon]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Chapter V - Synopsis: Halfway through the semester, Y/N thought the only dire changes she’d face would be a hectic schedule and a few sleepless nights. But with the arrival of a mysterious woman with flaming red phoenix hair and a swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the mere thought of her professor, exam season is shaping up to be an even bigger rollercoaster than she imagined.

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader/Mum!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (14 years. Both are adults), teacher/student dynamic, abusive relationship, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, terrible partner, co-parenting. 

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Slow Burn | Age Gap | Teacher/Student

Word Count: 4K Words

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆, Stark University buzzed with frenetic energy. Though the campus was always lively, these last few days felt like a pressure cooker—everyone was moving, but no one had time to breathe. 

Y/N delivered her argument earlier that day in Professor Coulson's Trial Advocacy class. It went well—too well, in fact—since Coulson kept the session past its scheduled time, firing one question after another at her. Luckily, Y/N didn’t have another class immediately after; even if she did, this was the time of year when professors were more forgiving about tardiness. They called it "We were students once, too.” Y/N called it breakroom chatter about the looming doom of their upcoming exams.

But students weren’t shy about playing the game either. They knew how to take advantage of this “forgiveness” by squeezing in a little extra time for themselves—chatting with friends, smoking a cigarette, grabbing a quick bite from the diner across the street. Any excuse was good enough to show up fashionably late. Or to not show up at all.

While Y/N didn’t have a class to attend, she did need to finish some work for Steve. Call it diligence or desire, she chose not to take an extra five minutes to toe off her heels and tone down her outfit. The better part of her reasoned that she couldn’t afford to waste any more time. But the sensual part, the one she nestled in the deepest recesses of her being, wanted to savor the moment and revel in her outfit just a little longer. 

Swapping her casual attire for something as crisp and sharp as her plaid light brown skirt, off-white turtleneck, and beige blazer with brown accents was her own version of a Cinderella moment. 

Maybe it was nostalgia for her teenage years or the desire to feel like herself again—confident, empowered, even a little attractive. She couldn’t say for sure. But between her classes, work, and caring for Nyla, Y/N rarely had time for herself. She had almost forgotten the feeling of wearing heels, let alone walking in them—there was something undeniably alluring about a woman in a striking outfit and bold stilettos. Thankfully, her agility hadn’t faded with time, just like her ability to command attention in a well-cut skirt.

She met a handful of inquisitive looks on her way to Steve’s office. Students carefully assessed her, trying to guess which department she belonged to and whether they had seen her before. The university was immense, so even if she were a social butterfly—which she was not—there was no way for her to have known any of them.

Though curious, and some a little charming, the looks she received were mundane. The interest was there, but there was a glint of something missing. An intensity she had started, albeit reluctantly, yearning for. These gazes weren’t the kind that sent a thrill through her, the kind she secretly craved even if she’d never admit it. No, it was almost blasphemous to dare and compare them to those blue-green eyes she revered, a meeting point between serenity and escape—a bridge she should never, ever cross!

Steve’s office loomed ahead, commanding the distracting thoughts away. Y/N inhaled sharply, smoothing out the invisible creases of her skirt for reasons that were beyond her. Knocking on the door once, hand already on the handle, she paused, waiting for a reply that never came. She pushed the door open, eyes immediately drawn to Steve’s desk. A gasp escaped her, her heels digging into the tiles when she met an unfamiliar sight. There, sitting comfortably in Steve’s swiveling chair, was a woman.

“Excuse me,” Y/N called out authoritatively, gaining no visible response. “May I ask who you are and what you’re doing sitting at Professor Rogers’ desk?”

The woman was dressed in a pristine maroon pantsuit, exuding an air of professionalism and composure. Yet, her callous behavior contradicted the very image she tried to project. She wasn’t a professor—Y/N was sure of that. And since she had never seen her around campus, it was unlikely that she was staff. Whoever she was, whether the owner of the university or the president of the country, she had no right to be lounging in Steve’s office as if she owned the place.

With a slight arch of her dark brows, the woman’s gaze swept over Y/N’s smaller frame. “Professor Rogers is not present at the moment,” she answered as if that was the question Y/N had posed.

“I didn’t ask about Professor Rogers’ whereabouts.”

“These aren’t his office hours,” the woman commented casually, seemingly unfazed by the edge in Y/N’s voice.

Y/N’s fingers twitched at her side, irritation beginning to simmer in her gaze. She was speaking English, for heaven’s sake. What was so hard to understand? Unable to get through to the woman, she decided on a different approach. 

“My name’s Y/N. I’m his assistant.”

Though Y/N meant to assert the authority her title afforded, the reaction she received was unlike what she expected. The woman’s aloof demeanor shifted to one of intrigue. Her catlike eyes softened, and a small crinkle appeared at the corner of her lips.

“So, you’re the famous Y/N,” she said, the amusement in her eyes evident. Y/N felt something flicker within her, a small jolt of surprise that coursed through her veins. The woman adjusted her phoenix-red hair over one shoulder and leaned forward slightly, giving Y/N a more deliberate once-over. “Bucky talks about you all the time.”

Bucky? Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of her former History professor. She’d been bracing herself for another name. Swallowing the confusion, she buried it deep, down by the embers of her hope that had briefly flickered to life. Bucky was the one talking about her?

“You know Professor Barnes?”

The red-haired woman smirked, the kind that hinted at knowing far more than she let on. Her lips, however, played a different tune. “We go way back. Bucky, Steve, and me.” 

Y/N nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin, disappointed line. A sharp discomfort settled over her as she realized she'd been standing there for an awkward five minutes, talking to a stranger. 

Determined not to show any sign of weakness, even though the woman's overconfidence and cryptic remarks gnawed at her, Y/N squared her shoulders and walked to the desk. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor fueled the confidence she desperately clung to.

“If you could please wait for Professor Rogers in one of the seats across from his desk,” Y/N said as politely as she could, though a hint of disdain threaded through her tone.

“I’m perfectly content where I’m sitting.” 

The nerve of her! Y/N took a deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “It’s not a matter of content but a matter of respect,” she enunciated sharply.

The woman’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Are you calling me disrespectful?” she asked bluntly.

“Did I say that aloud?” No, Y/N hadn’t, but she was glad the woman wasn’t clueless. “If you truly know Professor Rogers, then you know his stance on conformity. He likes things a certain way.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re in his seat,” Y/N pointed out, gesturing toward the chair in question. “He’s only permitted me to sit there. So, if you wouldn’t mind pulling up one of the chairs in front of the desk, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it.”

If the woman had been perplexing before, she was downright baffling now. She laughed, her cherry-red lips parting in genuine amusement. Y/N couldn’t fathom how someone like her could muster so much energy this early in the morning. 

Gracefully, the woman pushed the chair back, the wheels gliding smoothly across the floor. She stood to her full height, her ankle boots giving her a few extra inches. She crossed the short distance between them with a mixture of assertiveness and finesse that bordered on predatory.

As she moved to take a seat, her features became clearer under the office light. Her green eyes, like a verdant forest bathed in sunlight, were striking. Her face, a masterful blend of sharp lines and elegance, held an enigmatic allure. She towered over Y/N, the age gap between them becoming more pronounced the longer they looked at one another. The woman was clearly in her thirties—like Steve.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced herself as Y/N placed her books on the desk and turned on Steve’s computer. “Normally, I’d indulge in a mysterious exchange, but the scales are uneven today. I know far more about you than you know about me.”

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N hummed dismissedly.

Logging into Steve’s computer, she immediately pulled up the list of tasks for the day: updating attendance records, double-checking grades for Steve’s Intro to Artistic Visualization class, and reviewing the research papers that had passed through the plagiarism checker, among other things.

She reached across the desk to grab Steve’s binder, a languid smile tugging at her lips as she caught sight of one of the teddy bears they had won at the fair. Nyla had split the plush toys evenly between her and Steve, and according to him, one of the three had to find a place in his second home—his office.

If the gesture alone hadn’t warmed Y/N’s heart, the image of Steve holding the small toy in his much larger hands, waving it around with animated enthusiasm, surely did. She could still see him playfully swaying the bear before her eyes, its stitched mouth "kissing" the tip of her nose. The memory brought a fresh wave of goosebumps to her skin—thankfully, it was still cool enough for long sleeves to cover them.

“Drink?” Natasha’s voice snapped her out of the memory.

Y/N blinked, raising her head as her mind adjusted back to the present. Is she asking or commanding? was the first thought that crossed her still-dazed consciousness.

“Oh, sorry.” Y/N quickly stood, heading toward the refreshment area. “It didn’t even occur to me to ask if you wanted anything to drink.”

Almost as if Y/N’s genuine tone had thrown her off, it was Natasha’s turn to momentarily lose herself in a stupor. Her daze, however, was fleeting. She quickly recovered, replying, “I was actually asking if you wanted something to drink. I know my way around this office, hon.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest,” Y/N insisted, her tone polite, though laced with subtle passive-aggression. If Natasha noticed, she didn’t comment. “Let me get you something. Coffee or tea?”

Natasha hesitated, her gaze lingering on the coffee drip beside Y/N. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, still eyeing the rich brown liquid. Y/N was just about to place a mug beneath the spout, fingers hovering over the pot’s handle, when Natasha cleared her throat. “Actually, I’ll have water, please.” 

Y/N didn’t question her choice, even though Natasha looked like the kind of woman who could down two pots of coffee without breaking a sweat. Hell, she looked like liquor couldn’t hold her, not the other way around.

Without a second thought, Y/N poured her a glass of water and placed it on a coaster by her side of the desk. She poured herself some coffee, adding two sugars, and praised Steve for having a well-functioning machine, even though she’d never seen him sip a cup of coffee in his life.

Back at her desk, Y/N set down her drink of choice, drifting back to her work. Beneath her lashes, she spotted Natasha leaning back, her spine practically glued to the chair. She was gulping down her water, pressing her nose to the rim of the glass. Confused, Y/N subtly chanced a glance, sensing the evident queasiness that shook the woman’s otherwise imperturbable demeanor.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha replied swiftly. Although she intended to douse Y/N’s concern, the tremor in her voice only deepened it.

“You don’t look okay,” Y/N pressed, studying the way Natasha scrunched her nose. “Let me get you another glass of water.”

“Lemon,” Natasha coughed. “Can you…do you have something infused with lemon?”

“Uh, sure. Hold on a second.”

Darting back to the refreshments area, Y/N opened the mini-fridge. She scoured the shelves of iced tea, sparkling water, and juices. While she didn’t find anything with lemon, she did find a few fresh ones on the lower shelf where Steve stored his fruits. He had a penchant for yogurt and granola bowls.

Y/N made quick work of cutting the lemon and boiling some water in the kettle. Carefully mixing both in a new glass, she ventured a guess that Natasha’s discomfort was a result of nausea—one hand stifled her discordant groans while the other rubbed her stomach giving Y/N a clue.

“Here.” 

Y/N replaced the old glass with the new one, which Natasha eagerly took from her hand.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered, her voice void of that effortless confidence. Instead, it was laced with exhaustion, despite her best attempts to mask it.

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else?”

Natasha nodded, languidly drinking the lemon-infused water. “Can you please move your coffee away?”

Perplexed, Y/N slid her cup to the far right of the desk. As soon as the mug was no longer close to the redhead, Natasha’s shoulders visibly relaxed, the tension evaporating like the steam coming from her glass. She sighed—almost moaned—in relief, her grip tight on the glass of hot lemon water. She hadn’t yet removed her hand from her stomach, tracing gentle, delicate circles around her belly.

A gasp escaped Y/N for two distinct reasons. The first was the conspicuous diamond ring that sat elegantly on Natasha’s ring finger—a regal emerald cut that reflected power and elegance in an iridescent interplay of blinding light. The second was where her fingers had been splayed, tracing the contours of her belly.

“You’re pregnant.”

The words left Y/N’s mouth before she even had a chance to evaluate them. Whether correct or not, Natasha’s enlarged pupils and the flare of her nostrils told her this wasn’t the right thing to say. Of course, it wasn’t! What kind of person jumps to the conclusion that a woman is pregnant based on signs that could easily indicate a different ailment or less serious condition?

Maybe it was because Y/N had been pregnant once, and the sensory sensitivity had steered her clear of even the smell of morning dew. She could pinpoint the signs easily—the slight discomfort, the twitches, even the hesitancy and over-calculation for the simplest of things, like a cup of coffee.

She was about to apologize, insisting that she didn’t mean any of it, but something in Natasha’s expression changed. Instead of the guardedness that had hugged her so tightly since Y/N first set eyes on her, a shadow of vulnerability crossed over her features.

“Is it that obvious?”

Y/N shook her head, sitting down in her seat and wringing her fingers together. So, she is pregnant.

“No. I just took a wild guess.”

“You wagered right. I better never bet around you.”

Y/N chortled at Natasha’s remark, the tension in the air gradually receding. “How far along are you?” she asked in a quiet tone.

Natasha rubbed her barely-there bump, smiling. “Two months.”

“First pregnancy?”

Natasha nodded. She stayed silent for a moment, the gears in her head practically spinning until she confessed, “I never thought I would get pregnant. It never happened in all the years we’ve been together.”

Y/N didn’t want to think of him if “him” was the person she could never stop thinking about in the first place. Instead, her mind unfortunately drifted to Paul and the first night they spent together—the night that led to conceiving Nyla. Ironic how some women wait years to get pregnant, while others are surprised by tiny versions of themselves on the first try.

“Are you scared?” Y/N ventured, watching for Natasha’s reaction.

But Natasha was unfazed. If anything, delight seeped through the cracks of her initial weariness, swiftly altering her feelings to something better, gentler. “A little bit. But I’m mostly excited. I can’t wait to grow our family. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yeah. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, hon. If that’s something you want someday, I hope you find it too when the time is right.”

There was so much sincerity in her words, a mother’s delicate warmth harmonizing her sentences. But all Y/N could hear were the echoes of Natasha’s last words: when the time is right. Didn’t she know? Had neither Bucky nor Steve told her that Y/N, at only twenty-two, already had a daughter? A rambunctious, affectionate, social, and bubbly little girl whose eyes may have been a feature inherited from her father, but their glow resembled an infinite sky of possibilities and miracles.

The timing wasn’t right, and she would always be reminded of that when she looked at her classmates, Natasha, hell, even Steve. But she could never say that aloud, could she?

“Thank you,” she replied solemnly, busying herself with her work. She was far enough behind, and she needed to get a move on.

Natasha didn’t give her a moment of respite, though. “Is Steve available tonight?” she asked, her attention darting to the computer.

Y/N inhaled deeply, hyper-aware of the crescent moons her fingers dug into her skin for no apparent reason. “I monitor Professor Rogers’ academic schedule, but I don’t have the slightest clue what goes on in his personal life.” Hence why I don’t have a clue as to who you might even be, Y/N internally added.

“Well, does his academic schedule tell you anything about whether or not he’s taking work home tonight?” Natasha fired back, unfazed by the subtle hostility in Y/N’s reply.

Home. She said home.

“If I manage to complete today’s tasks on time, then Professor Rogers should be free for the evening.”

“Perfect! I plan to tell him tonight. I know he’s going to be excited to hear it,” Natasha stated. Y/N didn’t care to provide commentary, attempting to enter the attendance records digitally. She only hoped Natasha wouldn’t notice her slip-ups; she had already entered three records incorrectly. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately for Y/N—Natasha continued, “He’s going to think it’s a boy. He’s the type to.”

“A girl. St—Professor Rogers strikes me as a girl dad. I think he’d want the baby to be a girl,” Y/N mumbled under her breath, hoping her lower tone was enough to mask her emotions.

Natasha regarded Y/N skeptically, the tilt of her head almost personal. Y/N refused to let her scrutiny bother her anymore. Her mind kept drifting to thoughts of Steve and Nyla, replaying their interactions in her head. She knew it was wrong to think of them together, but the more Steve came to mind, the harder it was to shake Nyla’s presence alongside him. She blamed it all on Paul. If he had been a better father to their daughter, maybe she wouldn’t be sitting here thinking these sacrilegious thoughts about her professor.

She didn’t need that fickle little toad to love her, nor did she care for him to treat her any better than he ever had. She just wanted him to be better toward their daughter, like Steve was.

Steve had a tenderness, a protectiveness in the way he moved, in the way he looked at Nyla. Y/N wasn’t blind; she could see it. Steve longed for what she had. Now, in his late thirties, it was clear he was ready to settle down, to have a family. And he looked the part too—like every girl’s Christmas wish and every mother’s prayer. The way he treated Nyla, like a little princess—hell, that was even his nickname for her—showed that he was meant to be a father. A girl’s father more than anything.

“You seem so sure about that,” Natasha noted. Though her words were framed as a statement, the unspoken “why” hung in the air.

Before Y/N could respond, a knock sounded at the door, giving her a momentary reprieve. She suppressed her relief and casually invited the person outside to enter. Unfortunately, luck was not entirely on her side. It was Steve who entered the office, and his eyes didn’t find her first.

“Nat, there you are!”

Steve’s smile lit up his face, his blue-green eyes sparkling at the sight of Natasha. She mirrored his enthusiasm, and though she had shown a colorful palette of emotions during her conversation with Y/N, her expression was now purely candid—similar to when she had talked about her baby.

Y/N watched as Natasha stood and threw herself into Steve’s waiting arms. It was as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, though Y/N knew that couldn’t be the case. If her suspicions were correct, then…she didn’t even want to continue that thought. 

“I let myself in,” Natasha said, her voice muffled against Steve’s shoulder. Their arms were tightly wrapped around one another. “Didn’t want to bother you in case you were busy.”

“You could never bother me,” Steve assured her. He stepped back slightly but kept his hands on her forearms, his eyes sweeping over her. “Is that a new outfit? It looks incredible. Gives you a certain glow.”

Natasha laughed, her curtain bangs shaking alongside her shoulders. “That glow has nothing to do with my outfit.”

Y/N wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt and believe, truly believe, that she implied her secret pregnancy. But her glances felt more suggestive. And if even Steve picked up the innuendo, judging by his bright cheeks, then Y/N wasn’t wrong. 

Steve cleared his throat, letting his hands fall back to his sides, though his fingers traced along Natasha’s arms as they dropped.

“Since you’re here, did you have breakfast yet? We could head to the cafeteria, or maybe a café nearby,” Steve suggested.

“Anywhere’s fine as long as we can sit outside. It’s nice out,” Natasha replied.

“I think you’d like the café by the east side of campus. They have great bagels. I could text Bucky to join us after his class.”

“Don’t worry about Bucky. He can third-wheel another time,” Natasha joked. At least, it seemed like a joke—Steve laughed heartily. Y/N, on the other hand, stood quietly on the sidelines, feeling like the real third wheel. Did they even notice her anymore?

In classic Steve Rogers fashion, he offered Natasha his arm. “Shall we?” he asked gallantly, and she didn’t hesitate to link their arms together. It looked like Steve didn’t forget about Y/N after all. Torn between relief and frustration, she caught his gaze. He smiled softly at her, offering a small wave. “Don’t overwork yourself, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

“See you, Professor. Enjoy,” Y/N managed to say. But as the doors closed behind them, she couldn’t ignore the fondness in his gaze when he looked down at Natasha or Natasha’s gentle glances toward her stomach. The sharp sting that followed cut through Y/N’s heart, leaving her reeling.

What was she even thinking? Of course, he wouldn’t acknowledge her in the presence of another woman—a better woman. Y/N was just his student, practically a child in his eyes, a mess of imperfections. A pretty skirt and blazer wouldn’t change that fact, not that Steve had ever noticed her new outfit. Not that she really wanted him to… right?

God, what was she getting herself into? And how could she possibly get out before it was too late?

Series taglist: @crazyunsexycool @imaginexred

Originally, this chapter was supposed to include two more scenes, but since we're already at 4K words, I didn't want to drag it further. So, Natasha has officially entered the chat, and with her comes jealousy! What do you think Twilight (reader) will do with these troubling doubts and feelings?

[yellowbluemoonshine]

Todoroki Siblings Dynamic

I would like to talk about dynamic between Todoroki siblings.

Fuyumi & Natsuo;

I think Fuyumi and Natsuo are each other’s biggest emotional support. Natsuo was abandonded by his father since birth and his mother was hard to reach because she later busy with raising and protecting Shouto but Fuyumi was there for there. She always unconditionally love him. She take care of him. She was less like big sister but most like mother figure for him. And for Fuyumi too, she was most likely more comfortable with Natsuo than she is with other members of family. Her father is out of reach, her mother is in pain, her big brother is in pain and his little brother is in pain. She feels guilty for not being able to do anything for their pain but she doesnt have to feel that way with Natsuo.

Not only Fuyumi and Natsuo shared emotional connection and they both feel guilty for not doing enough for their family and again, other members of family were out of reach. Endeavour abandonded them. Their mother was in hospital. Touya died. Shouto wasnt allowed to be close to them. This is why they only had each others for long time. And we can see how they both try to support each others. Fuyumi makes sure that Natsuo having outside life and tell him ‘he shouldnt compare his pain with others because he was in pain too’ in novel and Natsuo forces himself to join family dinners for the sake of his sister.

Fuyumi & Shouto;

Shouto wasnt allowed to interact with his siblings so he doesnt really relationship with any of them but once again, Fuyumi was a lot like mother/sister type of figure for him, just like Natsuo. (Her personality is also like Deku). Fuyumi feels guilty for not being able to protect his little brother, she feels like he is her responsibility, just like how she feels for Natsuo. As if she has to take care of them and protect them as big sister. Its her mission. She stays at home for the sake of Shouto and try to help him from certain distance. Their relationship is natural. Shouto doesnt have any negative feelings for him but he (just like Natsuo) has the youngest siblings/spoiled child energy around her. Their relationship is improving.

Touya & Natsuo;

Touya wasnt happy when Natsuo was born because he was born to replace him so he didnt like him at first but Natsuo being abandonded, just like him, most likely the reason Touya felt relate to him and of course Natsuo’s kind nature. Despite the fact that his little brother is bigger than him, instead of feeling insecure, he still felt more comfortable around him tells a lot.

It is mentioned that Touya and Natsuo were close and Touya would cry on his shoulders. They were a lot like friends but it is actually weird, if we think about it and here’s why; Touya is the oldest and Natsuo is 5 years younger than him. It is really wierd that 13 yeard old seeing 8 years old as equal which is another proof that Touya was mentally regressing. Not just his psychical condition but his mental state didnt improve so instead of his 12 years old sister, he felt more emotionally close to his 8 years old brother who most likely doesnt even udnerstand a lot of things that his big brother was talking about. The age gap is too big for them to be equal and Natsuo (despite being the younger one) has to be the one ‘emotional support’ for his big brother is actually messed up. For Natsuo, his big sister was like a mother who take care of him and his big brother is someone he most likely looks up to and he is the one who has to take care of his big brother. Once again, all of these shows how broken Touya was.

Of course, Touya’s death hit Natsuo a lot. He felt guilty for not really listening his brother and not doing something for him. This is became the reason he cant ever forgive his father, not because his father abandonded him but because what happenned to Touya. In novel, he mentioned that he was too busy for thinking his dead brother that he couldnt focus on alive ones (Shouto etc).

Note; Touya felt ignored by his family and later died and turned into Dabi. I dont think Dabi targetted Natsuo, he couldnt know that Natsupo would be there since he is rarely at home. It was concidence that Natsuo was attacked. Dabi’s mission is to destroy Endeavour, not really his family. Actually i think he is ignoring them on purpose because they ignored his pain when he was child too.

Natsuo & Shouto;

At first, Natsuo also felt jeolous of Shouto because it lead Rei to neglect her children but it mentioned in novel that he changed his perspective when Shouto got hurted by boiling water, he said he couldnt forget Shouto's screams from that night and feel guilty for not doing something for him (kinda edit). Besides that, there is not much to say about their relationship since they didnt interact much. Shouto wasnt allowed to interact  with them and also Natsuo were dealing with grief of Touya and he most likely wanted to be far away from Endeavour as much as possible which means staying away from Shouto too. Natsuo feeling guilty for not being able to protect Shouto but Shouto doesnt mind. Despite not having much interaction, they also have common thoughts about their family. They both dont blame their mother and want to help her. They both view Fuyumi as sister/mother figure and act like spoiled children aound her. They both know who to blame, Endeavour, for the pain of their family. They both dont want to do much with him and try to endure him for their mother and big sister. They both used to look up to Touya (I think Shouto kinda looked up to him too, since he is the oldest). They both kinda healthiely and childishly hate their father. They are similar about a lof ot things and they both are kind natured so they will get along well. Their relationship is improving.

Touya & Shouto;

I mentioned about their relationship in here. They both have so many common points. Literally written to be parallels. Whether they are too opposite or too similar. They were complete strangers but they already have a lot of complicated feelings about each others because of this.

Touya idolized Endeavour and view him as creator of him but this broke him and lead him to destroy him. Shouto hated his father and viewed him as monster but later seeing him ‘change’ lead him to give him a chance. Touya saw his mother as guilty too for failing him. Shouto only view her as victim, even blamed himself for her pain. Touya felt like his siblings failed him but Shouto didnt think about that before since he never really interacted with them, he didnt much thoughts about it. Touya questioned the society of heroes and system that lead Endeavour get away while Shouto only view his father as problem. They both too similar and too opposite, dealing with similar issues which is why they see theirselves in each others and they really dont know how to deal with it.

They both meant to come to and understanding so they both can heal from their traumas and be a true heroes they both always desired to be.

Touya & Fuyumi;

I think this relationship is underrated. They have kinda twin energy. (Well, Touya is like this with every sibling of him, lol).Touya and Fuyumi are polar opposite which makes sense because siblings shows similar type of behavours with opposite personalities since they need to balance each others. Touya was intense, he is the truthteller over and over, in every single moment he would have to talk about his issues while Fuyumi is peacekeeper, she is silent and run away from her issues to that she could keep the peace even it is fake. Which means she would have to ignore Touya too which is why Touya didnt feel close to her and they both didnt but i do believe that they love each others. Fuyumi is still Fuyumi-chan to him, his little sister no matter what. She would call him out to play with him so he wouldnt feel left out. Fuyumi’s relationship with Touya is different than she has with Natsuo and Shouto because she doesnt know how to reach out to him. She play the mother/big sister role for her brothers and she thinks she has to take care of them and protect them and this is the best role she knows but she cant do that with Touya since he is the oldest.

For both Touya and Fuyumi, they thought their family was normal at first. Touya thought training was normal, Fuyumi thought the way her father distance from her is normal. But Touya found out the truth after he was abandonded and he called out his parents for it. For Fuyumi who is just have to watch all of these, her closing eyes and ears is her trauma response, just like Touya who cant hold his intense emotions keep inside. They both loved Endeavour once and gave him many chances. Fuyumi wants to forgive him for her sake but for Touya, for Dabi, it is not even about forgiveness anymore, it passed that point years ago. Years later, Fuyumi wants their broken family to turn into normal ones but she is doing it without actually adressing the problems while Dabi is constantly reminding what is the problem. Well, Fuyumi cant move on if she doesnt adress the problem and Dabi cant really adress the problem and heal without eventually moving on.

And in the end, they both need to come to an understanding. Fuyumi should understand that their family will never be normal but at least she has her family and it is enough. She shouldnt force them to be the family she imagined while Dabi also eventually in the end has to respect other family members’s desire to forgive. I think they both can do that with each others and their family. Because they love each others. Once upon a time, they were the besties, before everything went worse. I cant wait to see them getting over their problems together.

They all have interesting interactions as inviduals. I hope they hang out together at the end. They deserve to be happy together.

[fynnlink]

My X-Men Fancast

Since we're definitely getting a new cast for the MCU's X-Men, here are some of my ideas. I'm not 100% happy with all of them and would love to hear others' ideas.

Magneto - Mandy Patinkin 71

He's actually jewish and age and skill wise he fits Magneto perfectly in my opinion.

Charles Xavier - Brian Cranston 68

I'm not entirely sold on him but only/mainly because I fear people will only see Walter White (his Breaking Bad character) when he plays a bald character.

For the rest of the X-Men and other important Mutants I wanted some lesser known actors who are also a bit younger depending on when the movies take place (OG5 / First Class or later)

Emma Frost - Brianne Howey 35

She was great as a smart and cunning (and a bit manipulative) character in Ginny and Georgia but also perfectly portrayed a caring and protective side motivating her actions, which fits Emma both in her villainous beginnings and later her time as a teacher / mentor towards young Mutants. The way she acts her character Georgia's traumatic background / backstory and the responses and coping mechanisms to it would also fit Emma's childhood / teenage years (Emma Frost 2003-05).

Scott Summers - Brenton Thwaites 35

While I didn't like his portrayal of DC's "Nightwing" in "Titans" (2018) my issue was with the writing rather than the acting. I think, with the right writing, he could fit Scott/Cyclops perfectly.

Rogue / Anna-Marie - Keke Palmer 31

While I'm definitely not the first with the idea, I'd absolutely love her as Rogue. She has the skill and even the actress herself likes the idea, even cosplaying/acting the character in a self-made video

Sadly I don't have anyone as Jean, Gambit, Kurt or Beast as of yet, so ideas are welcome.

Lastly:

Logan / Wolverine - Karl Urban 52

While older than some of the other X-Men this would actually fit his character and Karl Urban definitely has the skill to follow Hugh Jackman's popular version of Logan. My main issues are his height (1.80m, instead of Wolverine's ~1.60m) and there would be an age-gap between his Logan and Scott and Jean. Obviously he has already played Skurge but the MCU has already recasted actors from small to bigger roles.