#and no i am not saying that if the button actually worked it would be okay to SUDDENLY HAVE A GIANT BUTTON TAKING UP A QUARTER OF THE SCREEN

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Lovers to coworkers - Jenson Button x reader

cw: mentions of fingering, creampies, actual spanking and cockwarming, age gap (reader is in her 20s, jenson is in his 40s), author loves dilfs and hates her clichés

"I have a job for you." Jenson says to you when walking into your shared apartment.

"I am employed, honey. Even though I wish this deadline from my publisher wasn't real, it is. Just like the fact that your lovely girlfriend is a romance writer.". You knew how he felt about what you do for a living. It was an icebreaker during your first date, and when you made him laugh so hard, he did a spit take at your first commissions, you knew he was the one. Thankfully for you, the writing you did had evolved much since your "man gets turned into underwear for his ex-girlfriend" days in college. It was insane how you rationalized that 10 bucks was 10 bucks.

Ever since then, you wrote like a machine. You were versatile, pitching different things to your agent. Poetry books, essay collections, general fiction, all of those were your favorites, Jenson's too. But what skyrocketed you to fame was the romance book you started writing after a drunken night with your boyfriend. You teased him about his "grid slut" days of the past. Asked him to tell you about it, warts and all. And he did, loving the way you crossed your legs as his stories of the past. He kept his hand between your legs as he told you about menages a trois in Monaco and public indecency in Italy.

Jenson fucked you raw that night for the first time and he'd been obsessed with you begging to be filled with his cum. He called you needy, greedy, desperately horny, his little slut. And as much as he tried to deny it, it wears him out. He likes slow things now. Eating you out for hours, orgasm after orgasm melting the time together. Having you stroke him as he's doing research. So when you whine and cum around him, he can't help it. Two more pumps and he's out like a light.

He wakes up hours later, thirst making his throat almost painfully sore. And you're still naked, aside from a pair of glasses, typing furiously on a laptop. He doesn't question it anymore but still tries to coax you into bed. You shoo him off, claiming something about "being in the zone" and continued writing.

You're particularly cagey about that one, but he can guess it has to do with F1 and specifically him. You ask about whether certain events would be accurate in a race. Learn all about his girlfriends passed and how they coped with his stardom. Finally, after months of pestering him, he gets an advanced reader's copy. It's a romance, and it's obvious that it's based on him. The female lead also has some similarities to you, which Jenson loves to tease you about. Both of you expect it to be normal. But social media gets wind of it.

The Booktok girlies were a force to be reckoned with. You should've known that, considering Mark and his controversially young girlfriend. Their "internet meetcute" was as cliche as one of your new plots. But the couple sure made good company on secret double dates. Nothing like beating the assumptions that you're sugar babies with a friend. So when she and the rest of the F1 romance community found your book, it was chaos. Thank God for pen names, because being Jenson's girlfriend on top of writing smut about him would be too much. But after your steamy work, everything shifted. Thanks to the feedback and sales, the book had become a sequel. Then a trilogy. Now, with a fourth one in the works, your partner was getting tired.

That's why, at the mention of your romance writing, he quickly bends you over his lap. He wastes no time in pulling your pants down, making your skin prickle.

"You know, you're bad for my PR, sweets. Do you think your fans have any respect for me?" He asks as he traces shapes on your bare ass. He's waiting to strike.

"Of course they do." You reply. You know the people reading your smut could be a little too into it. And you embrace it. Liking fanart, aesthetic moodboards, playlist. You have your own community and you love engaging with them. That's what sets you apart and partially gets the bills paid. More realistically, it's what helps you buy more books and also spoil Jenson's dog.

"Yeah, then why are they in my Instagram comments, all horny? Thought they weren't supposed to know that your protagonist is based on me." He wonders and smack, comes the first slap to your ass.

"I've built this image, you know." Another hit and he doesn't miss your moan at it.

"A book, almost 400 pages of my deepest, darkest secrets, so many hours of labor." Spanked again.

"17 years, that's almost a two decade career in F1, not to mention karting before and endurance after." Another strike, this time harder. Jenson ignores your pleas, just like he ignores the wetness of your cunt. That would have to wait.

"Took me years to shed the playboy image, so much effort to be serious and reliable on Sky Sports now. And you could potentially ruin it. We can't have that, now can we, sweets?" He asks and smacks you one last time. He drags his nails against the redness of your ass, making you feel the sting of his punishment. Which wasn't finished.

Jenson tells you to be a good girl and mount him, facing the other way. You love how he positions his mouth right against your ear.

"Let me tell you about the opening. It's an open kept secret, but they're letting go of Danica. Backlash from the fans and all that. So I figured, why not get a costar I actually get along with?"

"Jenson, I have no credentials. The public knows me as your girlfriend, it's gonna give nepo sugar baby." You say, trying to ignore your partner's hands on the cotton of your panties. You hate bringing up the age gap as well, but maybe it will remind him why this is a bad idea.

"First of all, everyone knows you're dating me for my looks and sex appeal, not my money. Second, you've been learning while researching your little smutty romances. You've seen every race this season and actually made some interesting points. Why not try it out?" He asks. He's stripping you, leaving your pussy completely exposed atop his jean covered crotch. You try to argue that you'd be a terrible pundit, purposefully using that word to piss him off.

"You'd be a fucking stellar commentator, love. And also a very pretty one, not that it matters." He says, gripping your waist.

"Let me prove it." He turns on the TV and opens the Sky Sports app. He puts on a random quali from this year and mutes it.

"Tell me what's happening and you get a reward." Jenson says and you can feel him unbutton his pants under you. You start with a general overview of the season, and when a camera pans to a certain driver you try to give a little tidbit of information. Your boyfriend adlibs with you, his tender voice becoming more clear and "TV like". Surprisingly, you can follow what he's saying. Even when he slaps the tip of his cock against your clit.

"Keep going, you're on air after all. Don't expect me to carry all of the conversation now." He whispers in your ear as you go silent. You try, providing some more fluff about the country and cheating by asking Jenson about his experience there. He responds by spreading you open and slamming into you in one thrust. Then he actually goes into detail about the track and some challenges.

"Talk the fans through Q1 and I'll move." He says as you squirm in his lap. Jenson's hands grip your hips, making you go still.

In order to "motivate" you, he places one hand on your nipple and the other on your clit. You try your best. You comment on tire choices, and purple sectors. You prompt him to fill your gaps. You even get heated as the time runs out, unsure who'd make it. As soon as you announce the 5 drivers that are out, Jenson moves. The short break between Q1 and Q2 is hell, with your boyfriend absolutely going feral.

"Aren't you so good to me, huh sweets. Taking me so well when I fuck into you. Being the perfect little cock sleeve. Don't get too excited now, we're just starting out." He says, just about as Q2 is about to begin. Then TV Jenson is back, he's talking like you two have an audience. You're too busy trying to get off, pussy clenching over him. As soon as he feels you do that, he pulls out, stopping right at the tip.

"Behave or we're stopping right now." He says and you delve into your observation about the qualifying session. Jense is a full on tease now, sinking you down on him slowly, giving it to you inch by inch. Then he's buried to the hilt and he stops. You relax into your commentator role, despite him throbbing inside of you. He won't let up, purposefully moving his body forward to see a technicality.

"Need glasses, Mr. Button? I know eyesight goes with age, but you're only 44. " You tease and are met with him spreading your legs even more and landing a slap square on your clit. You half moan, half announce the drivers who are out and your "career" is cut short. Jenson presses you flat against the glass coffee table, loving how your breasts are smushed against it. He wraps an arm against your waist and fucks you in earnest. Tip brushing your cervix earnest. Thighs shaking, toe curling earnest. Moans so loud they drown out the fact that he's still commentating earnest. As somebody takes pole position, Jenson makes you come and when the interviews come to a close, he's spilling his seed inside of you.

"You know, if you don't want me writing you like a whore, you should stop acting like one." You say. And even though he's getting soft, you're pulled to Jenson's thigh, smearing his cum over both of you. Round 2 is more predictable than the fact that you did not try for that open Sky Sports position. Because your slot with your boyfriend would have to be moved to after midnight.

[ifindus]

you are living in a new country right? have you gotten any culture shocks as a norwegian?👁️ (you don't have to say where you are)

I am and I have! Actually I was just thinking about making a post like this when you sent the ask, so your timing is amazing ✨ I don't mind saying which country I live in right now, because I am a bit more settled atm and I probably won't stay here for more than a year anyway.

I live in Greece atm! Though it isn't fair to say I live immersed in the culture as my work is mainly in English/Norwegian and I work from a home office, so I don't get out as much as I would like.

These are the main culture shocks I've had, as a Norwegian, living in Greece:

The food lacks salt. This is probably a good thing, but I've talked to other Norwegians here and they agree, we have to salt the food like crazy for it to taste anything. We are probably used to too much salt in our food back home and so the lack of it is unusual to me.

The drinking water tastes chlorine. Not even sure we can actually drink the tap water here? But it does taste bad and so I have to buy 1,5 litres plastic bottles with clean water at the store for drinking and even to use in the kettle when I make tea/coffee. This is a hassle :(

Lack of system and efficiency. It probably is clash with my way of thinking, but it just seems like everything is designed to be inefficient and systems here do not make sense to me. This is mostly in regards to administrative stuff, but I'm sure this can be true for anyone moving to a different country.

The traffic. Again, this might tie in with the lack of system, because people here drive without rules :(( The Greek system = No system. Not sure if there are actually any traffic rules here? If so, I have yet to understand them.

No garbage sorting. There is not sorting your waste here, which is very strange to me and I feel bad every time I throw stuff in one bin. In Norway we sort food waste, plastic, paper, metals & glass, and general waste. I think we are also going to start sorting textiles next year? The no sorting of garbage and everything goes in the same bin is strange to me.

Lack of digitalisation. In Norway, everything is digitalised. Not just the administrative and paying with card everywhere, but certain processes and services you need you can usually just fill out a form, click a button, or send an email online and it's done. Here, many more things seems to require physical interactions and copies :((

[risingsunresistance]

youtube will not be a good platform until 1) they stop trying to literally break your computer for daring to ask that you are not spied on and sold to third parties and have a lot of harmful shit forcibly shoved down your throat unless you are willing to dedicate part of your paycheck to them monthly and 2) THEY GIVE ME THE OPTION TO SORT A CHANNEL'S VIDEOS BY LENGTH PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU IM TIRED OF SORTING THROUGH 7 MINUTE VIDEOS TO FIND THE HOUR-LONG ONES BC THESE GUYS HATE PLAYLISTS-

[delta-piscium]

Trying? Trying??? By learning. By succeeding!

(about this and my text under the cut)

this is very nice actually thank you so much <3 <3 and like, i probably do need to give myself more credit in general but also i am still very much learning and stumbling and figuring digital art out (and for the most part it is so fun)

I’m gonna ramble about this a bit so bear with me and also i apologize lol, but that art was done after a month of getting increasingly more frustrated with everything turning out so badly and eventually realizing that I was trying to 1. copy a certain look/style that i’ve internalized is what fanart and digital art should look like and is very far away from my style/comfort zone 2. i was trying to do everything digital allows without being comfortable with it or understanding it

so (and this took me a month to realize ? ??) i did what i already knew from doing acrylic and oil painting in the past and could somewhat easily transfer to digital without having to know more than the basics, like i didn’t use a lot of the things digital provides or allows for. i used layers for my own peace of mind but without actually needing them and did some color adjusting (honestly, the color adjusting digital lets you do is such a blessing to me) but the only fancy way i really utilized the medium was making it a gif (which is so fun and a lot easier than i would have thought, like honestly watch me make any future art into gifs too) but there are so many things you can do with the medium with settings/effects, different brushes, tools to use in the process etc that i just do not understand what they are or how to implement them so i am very slowly learning digital art as a whole new medium rather than just being able to use it to adapt what i already know

[act-more-like-a-dog-sirius]

It’s really cathartic to just block people with exceptionally wrong fandom opinions

[rigels-nigels]

Girl help I've acquired possibly yet another expensive hobby

[you-have-made-a-fatal-error]

need to shell out for a new laptop before the end of the year - for a lot of reasons but mainly bc support ending for win8.1 makes fixing the current beast rather pointless :/ (and. admittedly. there is a lot to fix. she's old and she has suffered.)

but my current beastie is from the last gen of laptops with a disc drive and the thought of using an external/usb disc drive is enough to make me cry tears of blood

[kayzero]

tumblr i swear to all that is holy if you don’t get rid of the giant and intrusive and distracting button in the corner that doesn’t even fucking work i will punch a baby.

[godtier]

it amuses me how ppl will make PSA posts about how such-and-such platform uses "AI" and tells you to be Very Angry about it via context clues, but then the same ppl will happily reblog AI "art", even when it's very easy to tell and/or it takes two seconds to look at the damn comments on a post to find that it's AI generated, or that the very OP of the post tagged it as AI art, or answered an ask like "yeah I use a generator for the pics," or puts "I use midjourney to make the pics" in their profile on mobile, etc etc etc

I guess it's easier to screech about how an option in a program that you can turn off/disable within seconds and that won't actually do anything more than what your autocorrect or grammarly or siri or alexa or google assistant or photoshop filters have already been doing with/harvesting from your data for years now (spoilers: you've been using and training "AI" algorithms for longer than chatGPT has been mainstream! yes, it's basically the same concept!) than it is to do a few seconds of reading or double-checking to ensure you're not reblogging art theft and tagging it as "photography" 🙃

[jananimal813]

Okay, so who knows how to make money when you can hardly move your body?

Especially in a place that is very unlikely to care about accommodating disabilities…

I think I’m going to drop dead one of these days.

I feel like such absolute TrashDookieGarbage.

I don’t think I’m suicidal.

I’m honestly too squeamish about it, and also I’m convinced that I would probably fail at that anyway, since that’s all I ever seem to be able to do, so why even bother trying, ya know?

But my body is just going to stop.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Fuck.

[royalarchivist]

Unfortunately this doesn't feature an equal amount of clips for all languages or all streamer POVs, but...

Random QSMP Clip

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

I wish there was a site that you just click on and it randomised a qsmp clip, any language, any pov

[youreviltwin]

nobody gets abed. i got him a little

[nereidprinc3ss]

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway. 

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist. 

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes. 

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved. 

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table. 

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go. 

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying. 

He bites his lip thoughtfully. 

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat. 

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone. 

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step. 

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods. 

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently. 

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down. 

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU. 

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass. 

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk. 

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light. 

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful. 

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks. 

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier. 

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it. 

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one. 

It slowly fades, and you sigh. 

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm. 

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself. 

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there. 

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff. 

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure. 

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone. 

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

A moment passes. 

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat. 

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”

[luvhiromi]

pussy-eater! (jjk dilfs) pt 2 | nanami ver.

content: how i think nanami eats pussy.

a/n: this one only includes nanami cause this is a long one. sorry not sorry. pt 1 is here!

cw: porn with plot lmaooo, pussy-eating, nanami calls reader sweetheart/darling, praising kink, pussy-drunk nanami.

pairing: nanami x fem!reader

the series: pt 1, pt 3

Nanami Kento

This man  would want you to explicitly tell him what you want him to do to you. The reason? He loves seeing you embarrassed and fumbling with your words.

Would encourage you and reassure you sweetly, “You’re doing great sweetheart, use your big girl words and tell me what you want hm?” 

Loves seeing you blush and all shy for him, he thinks that it’s so sweet. After finally saying what you want, he’ll be so proud and kisses you softly. He’ll be praising you with soft whispers while his hands roam your body. 

Does all the work, he just wants you to feel pleasure and nothing else. He doesn’t stop until you’re all satisfied. 

Opening the door to his study, revealing Nanami still in his work attire. His suit jacket and tie was already discarded, several of his buttons are undone. His shirt is already wrinkled, a clear reflection of the stress he's under.

But the moment he saw you, all his stress and fatigue seemed to fade away. “What’s wrong, darling? Anything you need?” He asked you in a calm and soothing tone.

You’ve been needy this past few days. Nanami is always buried in a pile of work because of a big project, that he’s always on his laptop or study 24/7. But today was your last straw, that even after you used a nightgown that he liked so much, he just said “you look beautiful” and goes into his study to work again. 

So here you are, standing in front of his desk cause you want his undivided attention just for one night. But now that you're here, the words escape you, leaving you too flustered to speak. A pink hue spread across your cheeks and Nanami noticed it right away. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Tell me, darling, is there anything you need?” Nanami put his pen down and leaned back at his chair, manspreading. The words seemed to always get caught up in your throat, Nanami finds it amusing. “C’mere” His voice was soft yet authoritative as he pats his lap, inviting you to come over and sit. 

When you sat down on his lap, he immediately pulled you closer to him. Being this close to him has always made you nervous, “So what is it, sweetheart? Hmm? What’s going on in that pretty brain of yours?” Encouraging you to tell him. 

“Uhh…” Hesitating to tell him and as you take a deep breath you continued “I just wanted to spend time with you…” You explained vaguely to him. There was a soft smile forming on Nanami’s face, “Is that so, sweetheart? Use your big girl words and tell me what you really want hm?” He continued to urge you to spill your actual desires to him.

“I.. want you.. with me tonight… I want you with me for the whole night” You answered him hesitantly at first, but then repeated yourself with newfound confidence. Nanami brings his hand to cup your cheek and rubs his thumb on it, “Such a good girl, I might just give a special gift for being such a sweet girl for me.” He praises you dearly making you blush. Without any warning he stood up and places you gently on his desk, above all of his paper works.

You gasp softly as Nanami pushed your nightgown up to your stomach and peppers soft kisses on your stomach and your inner thighs. “My sweet girl… So needy.” He mutters as he pull your panties off gently, still littering kisses in your inner thighs.

“So pretty and all this for me? What a lucky man I am, darling” He says in such a sweet tone as he gives soft kisses to your puffy pussy before he drag his tongue in a long, slow stripe on your clit. “Hmm… So sweet…” Showering you in praises in between every lick and kiss to your sweet cunt. 

Your soft whines and moans drives him to bring more pleasure for you. His study is now filled with your moans and your squelching pussy. He focuses on your sweet spots and when you pulled on his hair, he couldn’t help but hummed sending vibrations to your sensitive cunt. “Close, darling?” He murmurs when he feels you clenched and tremble, the reaction he knows well. 

Nodding your head furiously, too drunk in pleasure to actually form words and answer him. Nanami grins at you and starts to devour you, sucking and licking your pussy like it was the last meal he would ever have. Your legs starts to shake, your head falls back, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. It felt like everything came crashing down as you came in his mouth. Your pussy trembles, it became swollen and puffy after the assaults.

Nanami licked your messy cunt clean, “Hmmm… Good girl… Your cunt taste like heaven, darling” Licking his lips clean and chuckles when he sees you trying to catch your breath after an intense orgasm. He got up and gives a soft peck to your forehead. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” He asked worriedly but there was a tinge of pride in his voice, for being able to pleasure you this way.

When you told him that you’re okay, of course he had to make sure this one thing. “Are you all satisfied, darling?” He asked with a sly smile. “Because I wouldn’t let my sweet girl go to sleep unsatisfied” He continued with a knowing smile on his face as he smiled sweetly at you. It may be sweet, but it sure is not innocent.

hope u guys like it <3 reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

[nanaslutt]

so i just read like… ALL your gojo stuff.

now imagine… gojo not being able to hold back and wanting to breed you after you both try those aphrodisiac chocolates… ahem…

i am absolutely terrified of getting pregnant yet have the words most insufferable breeding kink, we exist

Contains: fem reader, aphrodisiacs, masturbation, no prep, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, SOOO much dirty talk, praise, so much cum.., whiped!gojo, established relationship

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Gojo was talking soooo much shit when you sent him a link to some aphrodisiac chocolates you saw online. He would not stop dismissing that they didn’t actually work; saying none of that shit that advertised any kind of enhancement in sexual arousal ever did.

So of course you had to order the chocolates and really test it for yourselves, making a challenge out of it.

If the chocolates truly had an effect, gojo would do whatever you wanted, and if they didn’t? vice versa. Gojo was game, of course; because he didn’t think anything would happen.

“Bleh- they taste like shit too,” Satoru grimaced, chasing the horrible flavor with a strawberry soda.

“That’s probably because there’s something in them satoru…like the aphrodisiac…,” you shook you head, swallowing the bitter chocolate.

“Orrrr; crazy thought; it’s just some cheap chocolate marketed as aphrodisiacs to make a ton of money off of people like us.” he drawled, throwing his hands up in the air and waving them around when he spoke.

“I really thought you out of all people would find this kind of thing fun satoru.” you said, trying to push his buttons a bit.

“We’ll of course, chocolate and sex? I’m all over that,” he said making you laugh, “but me and suguru tried something like this for fun back in our student days, it was some kind of pill though,” his face twisted in discomfort as he spoke, “just ended up making us super sick tho, yaga got pissed, heh” he laughed, remembering the memory.

“Knowing you two it was probably some cheap boner pill you got in a sketchy bag at the convenience store.. so that might explain it.” you snorted,

He rubbed his big hand over the back of his neck, “yeah, there was like 5 other pills in the bag with it now that I think about it..” he said quietly, making you hunch over in a laugh.

The two of you went about your evening like normal, watching some comedy movie that was on and cuddling together on the sofa. When it ended you went off to change into something more comfortable as you started off to finished the laundry.

You haven’t felt anything extremely out of the ordinary yet; remembering that the package said it might take long for women to feel the affects; but gojo on the other hand was feeling mildly uncomfortable.

His face and neck were feeling warm, throughout the entire movie his big hand was placed on your upper thigh, like always. What was unusual though, was how his skin tingled when he placed it on yours, palms sweating more than usual; he just chalked it up to all the junk he had been eating throughout the day, probably upsetting his body.

When you moved back into the kitchen and started on the dishes the two of you had created in the sink, Gojo couldn’t help but hyper focus on the fat off your ass peeking out of your night shorts.

The way you moved your hips as some r&b music played quietly from the tv. He watched your muscles and tendons move together when you twisted your body around, watching your ankles cross; one behind the other; getting comfortable from where you stood.

Satoru was feeling hot all over now, a large hand coming down to grope himself over his pants when you bent over to put the dishes into the washer, poking out your clothed mound towards him, the fabric of your shorts squeezing your curves just right.

His jaw dropped slightly, breathing heavier as he got off on watching you do such a mundane task like the dishes.

You inserted the pod into the dishwasher, completely oblivious to satoru’s shenanigans as you stood up straight. You noticed when washing your hands that you were starting to feel a warmth washing over your body, and a sort of warm coil tightening in your tummy.

The lightbulb went off in your head when you realized it was probably the work of the chocolates. You quickly shut off the water, towel is hand as you whipped your head behind you to tell gojo what was happening to you; and to inform him that you were going to win this challenge.

Your motions were stopped short as you bumped straight into gojos chest, “Oh! Didn’t realize you were-“ Your words getting cut off when gojo grabbed the bottom of your face, bringing your lips to his, and kissing you hungrily.

Gojo used his other had to slide his arm around your body, pressing you hard into him, letting you feel his erection against your tummy.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your words that tried to excape, “Sa-mm- Satoru-“ you got out between kisses. Gojo shoved his knee between your legs, putting delicious pressure on your cunt as he kissed you like it was his last day on earth.

You had to grip his hair and pull his face off of you to speak, this didn’t really phase him as he targeted your neck instead, biting and sucking on the skin there, “Fuck- s-satoru slow down-“ you moaned when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Cant, need you-“ he spoke in between his rushed love bites on your neck, moving his big hands to hold your hips as he made you rock your cunt back and forth along this thigh.

Your head was spinning a mild a minute, still trying to wrap your head around the current situation. You expected this to happen; being on the side of ‘pro aphrodisiacs and all; you just didn’t expect it to happen so soon, and for it to have such a strong effect on someone like Satoru.

“S-shit- those chocolates have you m-more worked up than me,” you tried to laugh, voice cut short by a moan when his knee nudged your clit at a particularly mouthwatering angle.

“Need to be inside you,” he ignored you, groaning against your pulse point, hot breath tickling your neck when he spoke.

Gojo was breathing so heavily, his cock feeling like it was about to rip a hole in his pants at how hard he was. “Take em off, now-“ he whimpered, referring to your bottoms as he started pulling them down your legs, panties following suit.

You helped him, gripping his hair and keeping his lips pressed against your neck while you kicked off your shorts off from around your ankles . His hands dropped down to remove his own sweats, too impatient to fully take them off as he pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring out, jerking himself off with one hand rapidly between you; hand holding your hip with his other.

“Let me put it in, please, need to be inside you now-“ he groaned, finally pulling back from your neck; and he looked absolutely wrecked.

This whole situation was giving you whiplash, but you felt bad for him. Satoru’s hands were shaking, face flushed completely crimson, and he was sweating and panting like he just ran a marathon.

He continued stroking his cock, eyes flirting between your pussy and your pretty lips while he waited for them to move, voicing your consent.

His cock was dripping so much pre it looked like he already came. Hard cock still dripping steadily onto his hand and fingers, making his strokes emit loud ‘plp’ sounds into the air.

“Yes, please, give it to me toru,” you spoke, making him let out a moan of satisfaction. You wrapped your arms around his neck when he lifted you suddenly, burring your hands in his hair and face in his neck as he slid his dick into you with zero prep, all at once.

You were greatful the aphrodisiac was in affect, making you so much wetter than normal, and in turn, making the stretch a whole less painful then it would’ve been without it.

You whined at how his massive clock split you in half effortlessly, “Sorry baby- m’ sorry-“ he apologized with a groan against your bruised neck; whatever consciousness he still had left being aware that that might’ve hurt you.

“Shit it’s o-okay toru, just give it to me- fuck-“ You tipped your head back, jaw dropping and releasing a loud whine, giving him more access to mark up your neck while he fucked into you like a mad man; legs dangling over his arms as he held you in his strong grasp, hoisting you up and down on his cock like you weighed nothing to him.

“Holy fuckkk” he whined, vibrations going through your skin, “Need to fill you up, need to fuck you full of my cum s-shit-“ Gojo was working himself up with his words, already on the brink of his orgasm only a couple thrusts in.

He was truly using you like a cocksleve as he fucked into you at an inhumane pace, heavy balls slapping against your ass, strings of your combined wetness connecting to your ass each time he thrusted inside.

He sucked harder against your skin as he felt his first high rapidly approach him. His eyes repeatedly rolling back in his skull at the rhythmic pulsing of your pussy around him.

“Shitshitshit- gonna c-cum, need you to take it all f’me” his deep voice reverberated through you, all you could do is cry and moan our strings of his name and “yesyesyes” while he fucked his first load of the night into you.

“T-take it f-fucking take it yessss” Gojo felt like he was on cloud nine, he had never felt anything like this before. Of course he loved cumming inside you when you had sex but this was different. Every neuron in his brain was telling him to fuck load after load into you; to get you pregnant.

Gojo didn’t actually want kids right now, and you were on the pill so the possibility of him actually knocking you up was low- but not if his aphrodisiac brain had anything to say about it; he would make sure to fucking try.

Ignoring the overstimulation he felt as he humped his cum into you with heavy thrusts, quickly picking up his speed again when he finished spurting the warm ropes of cum into you, making you squeal at his quick recovery.

“Pussy feels so fucking good, so fucking wet sh-itttt” he groaned, dick twitching and abs clenching as he fucked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, sending him straight twords another one.

“T-toru o-oh my god-“ you wimpered, body flopping around limply at the intense pleasure. His cock was drilling straight into your sweet spot and making you dizzy. You tried not to pass out as he manhandled your body, gripping you roughly and marking up your skin everywhere his insatiable lips could reach.

“Gonna knock you up baby- g-gunna give you my babies- get you fucking pregnant, yeah? you want that?” you cut off his filthy mouth by using the grip you had on his head to press his mouth against yours.

“Yesyesyes, give me your babies toru- gonna make you a daddy-“ he groaned into your mouth at your mutual need for him to fill you up.

Gojo felt drunk hearing the nickname bounce around inside his head. Gojo never thought he had a daddy kink, but in this scenario? The nickname had him feeling like he was about to come again already.

By this point, the aphrodisiac was affecting you just as much as it was him, everywhere his body touched yours felt like your skin was on fire. You tried not to lose your sanity as he was pushing your towards your first orgasm without so much as even grazing your clit.

He set you down on the ground and in one swift movement spun you around so you were facing the counter. Satoru used his massive had to grab hold of his cock, slipping it back into your drenched walls.

You both groaned in unison at the sensation. Gojo gave you both a couple seconds to relish in the feeling, pressing his balls hard against your ass before he picked up his same ruthless pace as before.

“Good fucking girl- gonna look so fucking pretty with ur belly all round with my baby shiiit” he groaned when he felt your cunt clench around him at the idea.

He brought his massive palm down feeling your cunt squeeze him, leaving a heavy spank against your ass and gripping the fat between his fingers.

“Pussy tryna fuckin’ milk me down here” he laughed, biting his lip when he watched your hand come down to rub your clit in quick circles, “Yeaahhh fucking touch your pussy for me baby, make urself cum all over my dick while i fill you up.” he instructed, clenching his jaw.

“Shit- g-give it to me daddy- cum inside me-” you mindlessly babbled, there you go again with that fucking nickname that had his balls tightening.

You feet the coil wind itself up quicker than normal at your enhanced sexual arousal from the chocolate and the now added stimulation of touching your neglected clit.

“Come with me baby, gotta feel you cum around me- please” he begged, leaving another loud slap against your ass before pulling you back on his dick roughly by your hips.

“S -shit it’s coming it’s coming i’m- fuckfuck- ngghhh” your warned, voice cutting out as you started to come around his girth while he fucked you through it.

“yeeeeeess baby- fuuuuck- milk my fucking cock fuck-“ he watched intently as your little hole clenched around him, his first load spurting out around his cock with the pressure of your orgasm, making the white ring around the base of his dick get even messier.

“I’m coming again baby- take it for me- need you to take it all, gotta make sure it t-takes” he whined, getting you pregnant still on the forfront of his brain.

Your legs would’ve collapsed on the floor if he wasn’t holding up a majority of your weight by your hips. Your nails slid against the marble as his cock rammed against your cervix, making you dizzy, broken moans getting forced out of your mouth at the feeling of getting repeatedly impaled on his cock.

You tried to gain a little bit of brainpower back to help gojo through his orgasm just like he did for you, “y-e-sss toru’ cum inside me please- i’ll take it all- be a good girl for you-“ your voice squeaked out, words getting louder at the end with how rough his thrusts were,

He leaned over your back, pressing his sweaty chest onto you while he wrapped you in a tight bear hug, not ceasing his ruthless hips, “Need you t-to kiss me baby- go-nna be instense” he whimpered against your shoulder, waiting for you to turn your head twords him to give him access to your mouth.

When you did he wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours. The two of you swallowed each others moans as his pitch got higher and higher; his tight grip was sure to leave dark bruises on your body as he held onto you for dear life at his impending orgasm.

When the coil finally snapped, he shook violently against you, hips stilling against your ass, pressing his hips as deep as he could into you while hot ropes of cum filled you up even more than his last load, making more cum spill out around him at how full you already were.

His breath was hitching into your mouth, lips doing their best to kiss you back as his jaw kept falling open as the waves of his high washed over him.

He whined and dropped his head against your shoulder when he started to come down. Gojo panted heavily against your skin, twitching in the aftershocks of his high.

“D-don’t move please” he requested, fucking his softening cock into you a couple more times to make sure his cum was as deep inside you as it could go.

“Fuck toru- feel so full right now..” you wined into the marble, wincing in overstimulation at his final few weak thrusts.

After a couple seconds he finally pulled out his cock, gulping hard as he watched his cum start to dribble out of you; making you whine at the slightly uncomfortable feeling.

He used a couple fingers to spread your pussy lips; admiring his work for a second before he used to fingers to scoop his cum back up, stuffing his thick digits back inside of you, “Gotta get that plug of yours to keep it all in,” he said, biting his lip at how soft you felt around his fingers.

“Or you could let me cockwarm you,” you giggled, turning your head back to look at him while he looked enthralled with your cunt.

“God I love you, smartest fucking girl I know.” he praised.

You fell into a fit of giggles when he scooped you up in his arms, peppering kisses onto your face while he headed twords your shared bedroom.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist while he walked, keeping them snug even when he dropped the two of you on the mattress together. Gojo’s large frame laying on top of you as he reached his hand down between you to slide his semi-hard cock back into your oversensitive walls, making you hiss at the feeling, “Sorry baby- almost in,” he promised, kissing your cheeks while he fully bottomed out.

He rolled his eyes at how warm and soft you felt around his dick, sucking soft hickeys into the crook of your neck while you pet his damp hair.

“I’ll clean you up in a second my love, promise, you just feel too good right now.” he let out a short laugh against you.

“‘S okay toru, makes me feel good too.” you tipped your head forward and pressed kisses onto the top of his scalp.

“We gotta be careful with those chocolates,” he laughed, “Might acctually knock you up one day if we keep eatin those,”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” you confessed, squeezing your legs harder around his hips.

“Dangerous words to say right now pretty girl,” he warned, smirking into your skin,

“Oh right, guess you won the bet,” he remembered, “Whacha want ur big strong boyfriend to do for you?” he asked teasingly,

“Cum inside me again, right now,” you requested after a beat, emphasizing your need by squeezing your pussy walls around him, making him inhale a sharp breath between his teeth.

“Fuck… you serious?” he smirked, lifting his head to look at you.

“Don’t keep me waiting, give me my prize toru,” you pouted your bottom lip at him, making his brain short circuit as he felt his cock twitch back to life.

You ended up taking a plan B the next morning… just in case…

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.