#i’ve wanted to know what the fuck this is all about

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The Ambiguously Brown Character™”- The Attachment to Eurocentric Beauty Standards

“maybe im petty but i wish people knew how to draw like different nose shapes. Sometimes I’ll see a character I like but im like that is not what their nose would look like.” @the-eldritch-it-gay

You’ve seen them before. The one character that has brown skin… And everything else about them is… an enigma. They’re not supposed to be white! You know that much… right? You can see what the designated white characters look like, so at least it’s not that. You could claim them as Black, if you want, and sometimes creators even demand that this character is Black. Depending on the quality, you’re either like “no, what the fuck is this” or you’re like “okay they’re cool, we’ll take them”. Representation is important. But… There’s a pit in your stomach that wonders… Are they really? Are they really supposed to be Black, is this really representation, or did the creators just toss a brown person in so all the Brown™ people could “have something”, so that they would look like they cared about “diversity” on their art resume?

Examples

Theseus, in my opinion, looks like a white man with a tan. Dionysus looks a little better with the similar skin tone, due to his purple hair coloration. Apparently people do think that at least Dionysus is a man of color. What’s interesting about both of these characters, is that they’re only about two desaturated browns lighter than Patroclus, a character in the game that we’re supposed to believe is Black (whom, in my opinion, also looks like a brown bucket tool character. I’m still claiming him, he’s my guy. But his design should have been more explicitly Black). Theseus and Patroclus are the two darkest-skinned dead humans in the first game. So… what was I supposed to think about these two? Was I supposed to think they are really dark white people, due to the thin textures of their hair? Are they men of color? Are Theseus and Patroclus supposed to be ashy because they’re dead, is Dionysus ashy because he’s dehydrated from wine? Why don’t the white dead people look off color? Hades was entirely too striking a game in use of color for the browns to look like… this.

Noe and Hibana are interesting. It was complete coincidence, the purple hair and eyes thing btw. Hibana is interesting because Ogun is an unambiguously Black character in Fire Force, and there are at least three other unambiguously Black characters in Soul Eater as well. So we know the mangaka knows how to draw Black people in their style! So… was this on purpose? Is this another of those ‘tanned anime girls with titties’ meant for shounen fan service? I’ve claimed Noe (Case Study of Vanitas) because Black French people exist and France has stolen so much from us already, but it is never actually specified what Noe is. He’s just the One Singular Brown Guy in this show, with regular, untextured anime hair. Are there more brown people in the manga? Is this explained? Because we know who is supposed to be white! If anyone else wants to claim Noe, they absolutely can, because we have no idea what he’s supposed to be. Hot Chocolate thinks he’s Indian, and I’m not going to argue that because… who knows! He very well could be!

My very first lesson addressed this, albeit lightly! There’s a reason that I said that if you gained nothing else from me, that’s what I want you to walk away with. Now that I’m on stronger footing with this blog, I can really get into the nitty gritty of what that really means.

Obligatory disclaimer: we are not a monolith!* As of 2015, it has been researched that African populations have the highest genetic variation on Earth*, with a lot of that genetic diversity in sub-Saharan Africa alone. This means that YES, there very well can and will be Black people with naturally thinner textures of hair, blonde, light brown, and red hair, straight, narrow noses, monotone lips, and lighter skin that comes more often with white people. There are enough genetic combinations within African peoples and of the African diaspora that I’m sure there are plenty of people that look the way people seem to want Black people in art to look, if those genes so express within them.

*as a scientist, I will say: while these papers seem fairly legit and I looked at many related articles and their sources, take Nature with a grain of salt. Though their vetting process has become much better, you can and should always do further reading on your own!

Here’s the thing: the possibility is not the issue here!

The first issue: I don’t have to teach anyone how to draw those features on Black people! It is evident, from the professional and fan art I’ve seen, y’all already know how to draw the features deemed highly by Eurocentric beauty standards. Those features are excessively focused on and promoted as part of “good art”.

The second issue here is that the average artist drawing a poorly done Black person is not considering things like genetic diversity when they draw them (and if they are, it’s usually as an excuse post-confrontation. Yes, I have seen it.) These creators are not designing these characters with the intent of them being Black with those features, they are designing “Black” people with features that they deem most aesthetic and are most comfortable with drawing.

And why do they deem those features most aesthetic? We’ve circled back to the point of this lesson!

Eurocentric Beauty Standards

Definition: beauty standards as defined through a white, western cultural lens, including but not limited to: straight, blonde hair, light eyes, pale skin, high cheekbones, narrow noses, thinness. It’s a way that white western people want other white western people to look to be considered classically attractive… and then enforced that on everyone else.

It affects people of color worldwide. Anyone that has ever had to deal with European colonization or imperialism has to deal with the interjection of Eurocentric beauty standards.

Examples

-Black women, standing at the intersection of Blackness and womanhood, especially deal with the constant pressure of Eurocentric beauty standards, being consistently told to hate ourselves due to our own ethnic features. It’s incredibly damaging to your self-esteem growing up; my mom told me that until I went natural at 17, I was determined to look ‘like a white girl’ because I thought it would make me beautiful, and it hurt her. And as for me, it was a stunning realization that at 17 that I had never really seen my own natural curl pattern before. My hair was in ponytails and such as a child, but as a teenager, growing into my identity, I had always wanted straight hair. I was in love with my coily texture, I couldn’t believe that I’d never seen it. An entire part of my own body, gone unknown, because I wanted to fit a beauty standard I would never reach.

-Kenneth and Mamie Clark: The “Doll” Studies: Black children- age 3-7 were shown white and Black doll babies, and were asked a series of ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ identification questions. Even by that young an age, most of the Black children associated things like beauty, kindness, and positivity… with the white dolls.

-“The Golden Ratio”: a survey was done in Britain (oh boy, here we go) to determine what people felt was the ‘most beautiful’ face, and apparently it all came down to “symmetry”. “International blueprints of beauty” they claimed, were applied, as humans “naturally seek symmetry”. In 2015, according to ye olde Daily Mail, this was the most beautiful woman. You'll never guess:

(It’s not even her natural hair color!)

-Another “research study” using E-FIT (Electronic Facial Identification Technique -- a facial recognition software used to create criminal profiles based on eyewitness descriptions; no WAY that THAT could get problematic!!) to determine what 100 people thought was the “most archetypal face of beauty”.

They came up with a figure similar to Kendall Jenner as the female option.

(Guys, we’re never getting out of here at this rate.)

-We’ve spoken about discrimination against Black hair before, and how natural hairstyles will be deemed less professional or appropriate for school, regardless of the brilliant mind that sits underneath it, and even the history of Black women having to cover their hair so as to “not steal the desire of white men” and ruin the status of white women.

Appropriation:

I try to have nuance on the Kardashians, but I have never liked Kylie, and it’s not because she’s not allowed to do what she wants with her body. I watched the world claim that she was so beautiful, that her kits were why her lips looked “so good”. Everyone wanted to have “full, plump lips” like the ones Kylie BOUGHT. But Black women’s full lips have been treated horrifically since racism was invented. In 2016 I watched racists dogpile and mock Ugandan model Aamito Lagum for her naturally full lips in her MAC campaign, after saying in just 2015 that Kylie’s lips were “top fashion and everyone wants them”. And she lied (not that we didn’t all know that)! She appropriated a look, and she lied about it to move product. And people who had no right to forgive her did so, and everyone moved on to make her a billionaire. Because full lips looked good… as long as they weren’t on a Black woman. I can’t even have my own lips, but she was rewarded with an industry for appropriation. No, I’m not getting over that.

I could go on, but I won’t. So what are some ways to address the existence of Eurocentric beauty standards potentially biasing our creation?

First thing: LET’S TRASH THE IDEA THAT BROWN SKIN AUTOMATICALLY MEANS BLACK.

Black people are not stupid, and we do have expectations. Splashing brown paint on your otherwise white character does not mean I’ll automatically think they’re Black. I’m going to look. When I see brown people in real life, I can usually tell when they don’t look like me. I don’t look at a South Asian similar to or darker than my shade and say “they’re Black”. Blackness is not just skin color, it’s an entire identity and sociological construct. Yes, you can tell us apart.

Acknowledge when you’re holding a bias:

For example: “Tall, dark, and handsome.” What did you picture? You must understand that different people had different ideas of what this meant, versus who it was actually meant to be. Because on its surface, that description includes tall Black men with dark brown eyes and dark hair! We’ve talked about this in lesson 3! Whoever came up with this phrase didn’t mean skin though, they meant hair and eyes- they meant white brunettes. Even in this, it was only meant to include whiteness. And we were all supposed to assume that, be damned anything else.

Part of that is knowing what things do and don’t fall under the category. They were listed off earlier: straight and wavy hair, blonde hair, colorful eyes, thin noses, high cheekbones, double eyelid with round eyes that “show youth and innocence”. People have been going the “aquiline nose” route lately to claim more diversity in nose shape but like… even that isn’t always going to be the case. Every Black person is not going to have an aquiline nose. It is not the “middle ground” of diversity. Draw us with some round noses. We look fine.

Often ignored (in depictions of Black people): afro/coily hair and natural styles, large, round noses, full faces, brown eyes, full figures that aren’t oversexualized, body fat. One of the characters from Craig of the Creek that makes me so happy is Nicole, Craig’s mother. When I look at her design, I see my own mother. I see a Black woman that… actually looks like Black mothers I know. It made me happy and comfortable.

White folk, you even do it to yourselves! I mentioned to a friend once that a good chunk of stories in our fandom with the blonde/brunette white character dynamic read like an Aryan fantasy: the blonde character will be treated like a god on high, the most beautiful of humanity, and then you’ll get to the brunette and it’s “my meek, mousy brown hair, my dull, brown eyes like dirt, and my tanned skin with freckles; no one would ever notice someone plain, nerdy, and unimportant like me until him” lmao like excuse me? Author, you okay there pal? Do you need a hug, lmao? I can’t take it seriously anymore. If y'all are being this mean to each OTHER about not hitting Eurocentric beauty standards, y'all are certainly not being nice or respectful about people of color- who never can- in your content! (and no, exoticizing Blackness is not respectful.) You should look out for how often this happens, and catch yourself when you’re doing it.

Creating with Intent (and the lack thereof!)

(This is so important I made the header larger)

You have to actually consider and reference REAL Black people when you’re drawing Black people. That seems like such an obvious thing, and yet it must not be, because these sorts of arts/the techniques used in them still happen.

For example:

credit to my friend @devilatelier; I asked for the worst Black art ever and he heeded the call!

I abhor art like this, and art that does varying versions of this. To the pit of my soul, hatred. I will not share your work if I catch even a whiff of it. Why? Because people know that this isn’t what we look like! If you get on the computer and type in “Black man with short hair”, option A is not even remotely on the first page. You’ll get nonblack men that show up, thanks to Google’s algorithm (another conversation), but the Black men don’t look like A. If you get on the computer and type “Black man with long hair”, you’ll even get Black men with all textures and styles of hair, including straight! And they still don’t look like B. Go ahead, I’ll pause- go type it in and see what you get. Have you ever seen a Black person that looks like these images? Be honest with yourself. Why do you let them slide, if you haven’t?

Why This Matters

So it’s not about the actual Black people in their lives that they’ve seen, that makes artists draw characters like this, nor a dedication to accuracy. Because if you were looking at us at all, you wouldn’t draw this. And yet, people draw it, and post it proudly. So there must not be any shame behind it, or they at least are comfortable enough with their target audience to think it’s presentable! That begs the question- who is your target audience, and do you include Black people in it?

It’s how people like Jen Zee can have a successful career at Supergiant despite drawing dark skinned people the way she does. It’s because studios recognize when their target audiences are not perturbed by, and therefore will still buy, their product. If poorly drawn Black people does not perturb audiences enough to affect the almighty dollar- or, in fanart situations, the value of popularity- then there’s no motivation to stop doing it! Who cares about the value and the demeaning of Black fans, right?

Think about it like this. You remember how everyone bullied the Sonic studio and they scrapped their entire reel? People do not get that much up in arms in solidarity about the antiblack treatment and depiction of Black characters. It’s how you end up with Wyll Ravengard on the drop of BG3. Because Larian could have stood on business, had some integrity, and said “this is a character we are going to develop, because there will be fans that look like Wyll, and deserve to receive our best efforts at inclusion.”

But instead, Larian said “this is what our majority fanbase wants, and apparently it is not a well-developed Black character” and released that game as it was. To rousing success. That was a choice. The antiblackness of both the fans and the studio, via their lack of concern about Black gamers, was involved in making that decision. We have to let go of the idea that antiblack racism is incidental, and not a part of the process- and that includes in character design.

I cannot tell you how much it shrivels my heart inside when I see a “Black” character with wavy hair. One, because I know the artist’s first thought was not to have a Black character with wavy hair, but because they draw white people with that hair and thought it was transferrable. Two, because if you wanted the aesthetic of hair down to the back… Locs could have worked! The same shape would be there! You can style locs in any way, and it would be fine! Even if you wanted them to have thinner hair, fine, but… I can see where the intent (and the lack thereof) is. We can see when you aren’t even trying for us!

I asked Angel how he felt about creating the “white man with the brown bucket” images, curious about how he felt given that he is more than capable of drawing Black people. His response was noteworthy, and consistent with my hypothesis:

“Thinking about it, these two drawings have been the most difficult thing I’ve had to draw, period. And it’s the first time I’ve actually felt nauseous during the drawing process from start to finish. I constantly felt like I was fighting off the part of myself that knew better, telling me that this is wrong. It felt like a betrayal, knowing what Black people actually look like and still choosing to be disrespectful. Especially because I worked on the first two and immersed myself in references and also Black youtubers, researching Black hairstyles. It felt like a betrayal to all of that to call these two (deliberately poorly drawn) characters Black, because they’re not. None of the Black people I found during my research (both photo references and videos) looked like these. at all. It felt cheap, it felt lazy. Creatively lazy in the way that you just take a white person and paint-bucket them brown and call it a day. In the way it makes you feel no pull to change what you do, or learn something new. Kinda like a thought terminating cliche. Unlike the first two, I used no references for them, but I mostly based them off of actual designs I’ve seen in fandoms, both fanmade and not.”

Conclusion

So what I want us to consider for now is: if we know that’s not what Black people look like, but so many people are willing to do and/or accept it without any mental dissonance… how much do they care? Why is this allowed to ‘pass’, if we recognize that it is not accurate, unless we think what we are being presented with is acceptable? Or at least, not worth fighting over? Why not? Why do you not think that this Black character deserves to be unambiguously Black? And why does that ‘better’ way to exist always come back to whiteness?

We’re going to get into this, as well as more into the other, more overt and equally harmful manifestation of these beliefs in the next lesson on Whitewashing! But I want you to simmer on this part, first.

When you draw a character that you want to be Black, not only should you keep in mind your intent of how you’re going to draw them, but it also means putting in the work to make sure you’re doing so. You do not put pen to paper and “accidentally” draw a white man lol, it came from somewhere- let’s shatter that connection that views white features as superior, as 'ideal for attention grabbing', so we can create better. Because remember, it is the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[algae-tm]

LOVE STORY

Max Verstappen x Author!Reader

Author’s Note: IM BACK!! To put things into perspective, I started this smau when Alex’s insta was still private! Tbh I started writing it cause I like love her, I can’t call her mother cause she’s like a month older than me, but that’s cousin right there. Anyways sorry for the hiatus i was spiralling due to a man 😔😔 it happens to the baddest bitches, and also sort of writers block so pls give me requests! But to make up for the fact that I’ve been gone, this fic is fat as fuck so enjoy

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alexandrasaintmleux just posted

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 300,000 others

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous gorgeous girls are published authors!!!! y/n, y/n! I remember when you used to force me to read when I wanted to play princesses and now you’ve written a goddam book!!! In awe of u 📕🥰🥰

(tagged y/nreads)

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yn.reads : ALEXXXX!! my gorgeous sister! I couldn’t have done it without you!! Love you endlessly!

— user1 : wait r they sisters???!!

— user5 : no! hope this helps.

— user6 : pls use your brain

— user7 : they’ve known eachother forever! y/n moved to Monaco when she was 4, so they refer to eachother as sisters.

charles_leclerc: bravo y/n! Well deserved

maxverstappen1: 👏🏻👏🏻

— user43: 🤨🤨

— user10: wait do they know eachother?

— user15: not as far as i know…

— user12: Max doesn’t even follow Alex, why is he here?

— user17: interesting 🤭🤭

— alexandrasaintmleux: very interesting…

yn.reads just posted

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yn.reads: @alexandrasaintmleux thank you for letting me shake ass on your yacht, and cosplay as a rich monegasque while doing it! Your support has meant the world to me, you’re the reason Everything I Know About Love was written, cause you have taught me everything I know about love, friendship, life! You can purchase my book in just under a week guys!!

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alexandrasaintmleux: I’m so proud of you baby xx

— yn.reads: i love you so much alex, i had to write 124,567 words to express it

— alexandrasaintmleux: 🥹🥹

—charles_leclerc: am i intruding on something?

— yn.reads: yes!

user12: no but Alex and y/n’s friendship is literally my favourite thing

user11: is y/n not a rich monegasque?

— user10: she’s not even from Monaco, and she grew up with a single mum who I’m p sure just has a normal job so no

user14: not y/n using Alex for her money

— yn.reads: do y’all never get tired? Or is hating on the internet like your job?

— user14: no I have an actual job you should try it sometime…

— yn.reads: girl???? I just wrote a book?????

maxverstappen1 : I will read this book

— yn.reads: thank you max verstappen, current f1 champion

— user16: 🤨🤨🤨

— alexandrasaintmleux: what am I witnessing rn

— yn.reads: 🙃🙃

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yn.reads: BOOKLAUNCHBOOKLAUNCHBOOKLAUNCH

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lewishamilton: 👏🏾👏🏾

— yn.reads: WHAT THE FRICK LEWISHAMILTON??? What are you doing here??????!!

— alexandrasaintmleux: girl you good??

— yn.reads: am I good?? AM IGOOD?? Lewis freaking Hamilton knows I exist!!!

— charles_leclerc: please stop embarrassing me in front of my coworkers

— yn.reads: kick rocks leclerc

pierregasly: well done, me and kika already have our copies

— yn.reads: 🥺🥺 thank you pear and kiks

alexandrasaintmleux: so proud of you mon ange

— yn.reads: I love you so much alex

— user12: their friendship is so cute I can’t

— yn.reads: friendship?? We’re lovers!

— user12: wait are you actually???

— charles_lecelrc: NO

— yn.reads: don’t be jealous sharl

charles_leclerc: well done I guess

— yn.reads: thank you I guess

— alexandrasaintmleux: aww my two favourite people getting along ❤️🥺🥺

— user12: I need my doctor to prescribe me whatever the fuck Alex is on EXPEDITIOUSLY

user14: girl no one gives a fuck about your book launch, we want to know wtf happened at the after party??!

—user15 wait, did I miss something what happened?

— user14: it’s all over social media but it starts with max and ends in verstappen

maxverstappen1: simply lovely

— user14: well well well

— user15: and she didn’t even interact with his comment

— user14: very interesting…

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maxverstappen1 just posted

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maxverstappen1: I’ve got a NYT bestselling author teaching me how to read

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charles_leclerc: I made this happen everyone! It was me! I did it!

— yn.reads: yes well done percy, we’re well aware

— user12: wait a minute Charles did something nice for y/n?

— user14: my moneys on the fact he was just trying to get rid of her so he could spend time with Alex

— charles_leclerc: what if i told you im a mastermind 😎

yn.reads: it isn’t much but it’s honest work 😔

— danielricciardo: has he learnt his abc’s??

— yn.reads: just about he gets stuck on x, it’s a very difficult letter

— danielricciardo: happens to the best of us 😞

— yn.reads: @/danielricciardo hey I actually have a question for you??

— maxverstappen1: NO!! Y/N DO NOT ASK UR QUESTION

— yn.reads: ☹️☹️

user16: is this a hard launch??

— user14: Idek anymore 😭

— user17: like knowing y/n she might actually just be giving him reading lessons

— maxverstappen1: guys of course I can actually read

— user16: yeah sure you can! That’s the spirit!

yn.reads: I bagged the baddest bitch y’all

—maxverstappen1: 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️💅🏼💅🏼

— alexandrasaintmleux: I thought I was the baddest bitch???

— yn.reads: oh my god… OH MY GOD, I didn’t think this through… @/maxverstappen1 what do you think of a throuple??

— maxverstappen1: NO

— charles_leclerc: NO

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[muffinpink02]

Alexia with the new Cupra picture is giving me ✨sugar mommy who spoils you in every way✨ vibes

(fic?)

Spoilt Princess

Thank you for the prompt anon!

Warning - smut 18

“How does it look, amor?” 

You fixed your hair in the changing room mirror, trying on the 100th dress of the day.

“Good, I like it.” You smoothed down the edges of the short red dress. 

“Show me, princesà.” 

You smiled at the nickname. Alexia did well and truly treat you like a princess. The Spainard loved to spoil you. Just like she was doing now, she’d spoil you on any occasion she could. From buying you the newest pair of Nikes, to flying you abroad to a five star resort. The girl never let you go without. If you wanted it, you had it. You wasn’t a brat about it, well, sometimes, but Alexia would fuck that out of you very quickly. 

You pulled the thick curtain open, Alexia was sitting in the plush velvet chair in the corner of the private fitting room. A number of high end branded shopping bags sat at her feet, the majority of them being yours. All purchased by Alexia, of course. 

You couldn’t stop the shy smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth as you watched her piercing hazel eyes snake down your body. 

“Do you like it?” You asked.

It was a pointless question really, of course Alexia liked it, she was the one that picked it out. The short dress showed off all her favourite parts of you. From the swell of your breast, to the firmness of your thighs and to the most important, the curve of your arse. Her most favourite part.

“Turn around, let me see you.” The Spaniard commanded.

You smiled as you turned around for the blonde, making sure to wiggle your arse as you did. 

Alexia bit her bottom lip as she took you in, you looked good, she loved you in anything red and this dress was doing wonders. It fit you like a glove, like it had been especially made for you. That being said, you had countless dresses that she had got especially tailored for you, but it never hurt to have more. 

“I love it, amor.” She smiled a genuine smile at you. 

“Let’s add it to the pile.” You winked.

“Sí. Did you want anything else? What about those heels you were looking at or those earrings you spoke about?”

“No, I think you’ve spoiled me enough today, Ale.” You chuckled softly. 

She tutted, her calm face scrunched into a cute frown. 

“It’s not true. I’ve hardly got you anything. And they would look good with this dress, no?”

You smiled at her little pout. It wasnt a secret that Alexia loved fucking you in heels, it was her thing. Something you had worked out very quickly into your relationship, the girl would always leave the item of clothing last when stripping you. Sometimes never taking them off at all.

You walked over to the blonde, shaking your head as you laughed at her pout. You bent down between her already spread legs, holding onto her thighs for balance. Her eyes followed you, dropping to the now very revealing angle of your cleavage.

“Ale, baby you’ve got me a lot today.” 

The blonde rolled her eyes, she cupped your chin with her hands, tilting your head higher. 

“But I haven't, cariño. It's been a while since I got to spoil you.”

That was a lie, she had only bought you a new camera last week, just because you said you were thinking of doing a photography class. And she didn't go cheap, she bought you a camera that even the most professional photographer would envy. 

“Ale, baby, you know I don’t need it.” 

She kept her hand on your chin, she moved closer to you, her lips now inches from yours.

“But I want you to have them. At least pick one.” She whispered softly against your lips. 

You felt your body tingle from the simple gesture, and other things may have tingled.

“Hmm, the heels.” You smiled widely. You moved forward, closing the gap between you. “Thank you.”

Alexia hummed against your lips, inhaling as she felt your tongue glide against her lips.

You pulled back, winking at her as you stood up from the familiar position. You looked at yourself in the mirror, looking over your shoulder.

“I guess you're right, they were really nice.” You smiled in the mirror.

“Sí, they will. They will go with most of your dresses.” The blonde nodded.

“Hmm, or nothing at all.” You looked over at the girl whose cheeks turned a shade of pink.

“Sí, or nothing at all.” She chuckled softly at you. She stood up from her chair, you watched her in the mirror as she approached you from behind, she put her two large hands around your waist, pulling you into her front. She laid her chin on your shoulder, locking her eyes with yours in the reflection.

“But, I did see a red lace set that would really suit you.”

—-----------

“Princesà? Are you ready?” Alexia called in from the ensuite. 

You gloss your lips, finishing off the last touches to your make up in the floor length mirror. You were getting ready for your date night, you had been looking forward to this day for a while, Alexia had somehow gotten a table at a very exclusive and very expensive restaurant. 

“Nearly.” You sang out. 

She walked into the bedroom where you stood, she smiled when she spotted her new favourite red dress hugging your body. She slowly walked over to you, her eyes fixed on your arse.

“You look beautiful, mí amor.” She pressed her lips against your bare shoulder, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. 

“You look beautiful, baby.” You smiled at her reflection in the mirror. 

The blonde looked good, she looked like she was ready to command a room full of businessmen. She was fitted in a grey two piece that showed off her muscular arms. Her blonde hair fell down her back, with her silver hoop earrings hanging off her ears. 

“Gràcies, cariño.” 

You picked up your silver necklace that Alexia had purchased for you a little while back. It was a simple piece but you loved it, you wore it everywhere. It had her initial attached to it, making you feel like she was always with you.

“Here, let me.” Alexia moved your hair out of the way and clipped the jewellery around your neck.

“Perfect.” 

“Nearly perfect. I have something for you.” 

She stepped back from you, a mischievous glint sparkled in her beautiful hazel eyes.

“Alexia! Baby, what could you have possibly gotten me?” 

She ducked under the bed, grabbing out a small white box. Alexia opened the lid revealing the eye watering priced earrings you had been eyeing up.

“Oh my god! You got them for me? How? When?” Your mouth gaped open in shock.

“I made a call. It wasn’t hard. They were delivered when you were in the shower.” She shrugged.

You jumped up and down like a kid on Christmas, giddy at the thought of Alexia getting you yet another present.

She watched as you put your new earrings on.

“Sit, I’ll help you put your heels on.” 

You did as she said, sitting on the end of your shared bed. Alexia kneeled at your feet, holding your ankle as she placed your feet into the strappy heels. You really were her little princess, she made you feel like a real life Cinderella. She slotted the straps into the holes with the most gentle touch. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

She gave your bare leg a kiss, then another then another, slowly moving up to your thighs. Her mouth melted when she smelt the vanilla scented cream on your skin. 

“Ale.” You shakily breathed out. 

“Hmm.” She didn’t bother looking up at you, too distracted at your buttery skin. 

“Baby, we’ll be late.” You tried to convince her, but you couldn’t even convince yourself. 

“Just a little taste, please amor.” She begged as she already started to push your dress up, revealing your new red laced thongs. 

You could never say no to Alexia, especially when she was literally begging at your feet, but you knew you were already running late for your reservation. Your eyes closed as her lips started to kiss your lips through your underwear, her warm breath making your legs open more for her. You felt yourself melting for her, wanting so badly to just let her take you, have her way with you, but that fucking table.

She gently pulled your underwear to the side, revealing your sex. 

“Tan bonica.” She husked before swiping her tongue through your folds.

“Fuck.” You gasped, you had to hold yourself back from pulling at her hair, you didn't have time for her to fix it again.

She took another slow swipe, running her tongue gently against your folds. You groaned at the electric sparks it sent through your muscles, your body already feeling like it was on fire from her expert touches. 

You knew if you didn't stop her now you wouldn't make it out of here tonight, let alone on time for the table.

“Baby, we got to go- fuck!”

Alexia had made it just that bit harder to leave as she wrapped her lips around your clit, sucking your sensitive bud with a precise precision.

Your head tilted back as she suckled on you, you bit your lip trying your hardest to force yourself to stop her. You looked down at the blonde between your legs, she was in her own world of pleasure. You let out a loud sigh, knowing you had to stop, even though you really, really didn't want to.

“Ale, come we have to go.” You groaned at your own words.

Her hazel eyes finally looked up at you, you could see the hesitation in her eyes, she clearly didn't want to stop. She groaned in annoyance, she gave you one last lick before she pulled herself away. 

“I regret booking this now.” She mumbled between your legs.

You let out a breathless chuckle. “So do I. But once we’re done we can pick up where we left off. We can even try that new thing you want to do.” 

Her eyes lit up at that. “Really?” 

You nodded, smiling wickedly at the blonde.

Alexia stood up, picking up your red thongs that were crumpled on the floor.

“I’m keeping a hold of these.” She tucked them into her loose pocket, smiling cheekily at you.

—------------

“Gràcies.” Alexia smiled, placing her card on the receipt tray.

The evening had been amazing, the food was delicious, the atmosphere was calm, the conversation had been flowing and the fingers dancing between your thighs was…mind numbing. 

Since the moment you sat down Alexia had taken advantage of the now missing barrier between your legs. Her fingers had been relentless, skating up, down and around your ever growing sensitive lips. 

“Alexia.” You whispered, you didn’t once tell her to stop, you didn't want her to. She felt so fucking good.

She had you nearly screaming out in the busy restaurant as her talented fingers circled your swollen clit, she smirked wickedly at you when she felt your essence dripping onto her fingers. 

She didn't think to stop when the waiter came over. 

“Would you like to see the dessert menu?” The waiter asked.

“No!” You choked out a shout. The waiter looked between you and Alexia, a little confused from the outburst. You eyed the blonde, who kept that calm stupid smile on her face. 

“Erm, sorry no.” You cleared your throat. “Just the bill please.” You forced a smile, trying your hardest to hold down the filthy groan that wanted so desperately to escape your throat.

Once Alexia paid the bill you couldn't get out of the place quick enough. 

—------------

You waited outside the restaurant as a bell boy brought your car to the front. 

The teen boy smiled as he passed over Alexia’s car keys. “Nice car by the way.” 

“Gràcies.” Alexia smiled politely, slipping the boy a tip. She nodded her head eyeing the vehicle. “She's a beauty.” She agreed.

It was her new car, her pride and joy. You weren't into cars, you just about knew the different names, but you could appreciate a nice car when you saw one. It was sleek and smart, and Alexia looked fucking good in the drivers seat. 

She opened the passenger side door for you, smacking your bum as you climbed into the leather seat. 

“Oi!” You laughed as the blonde playfully winked at you. You watched as she waved at the bellboy, before jumping into the driver's side.

Finally, you were on your way home and you couldn't ignore the way your body was thrumming with desire for the blonde next to you. You was dizzy, dizzy with the thought of Alexia fucking you with her big strap. Fucking you until your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, stuttering your words as her hips bucked between your thighs. Making you scream her name-

“Everything okay, amor? You seem a little distracted.” She hummed as she looked over at you, that same smug smile on her face.

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting out a long sigh. You could feel your cunt aching, verging on almost painful. 

“You could say that.” You looked out the window, praying all the lights stayed green.

Alexia let out a loud laugh, the laugh that you loved. You looked over at her, her beautiful smile plastered her face. 

It only made you want her more. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning over so you could easily access Alexia's neck. 

“Amor, I’m driving.” Her breath hitched as she felt your tongue glide against her skin.

“I can stop if you want?” You said it as you kissed behind her ear.

“No.” She smirked.

You hummed, smiling as you gently bit her favourite sweet spot. “Thoughts so.” You whispered in her ear, bitting a little harder at the soft skin, causing the Spaniard to let out a small gasp.

You kissed down her neck, moving to her throat. You gently sucked on the vein that you loved, lapping your tongue over the ridge of her skin, you lightly hummed as you felt it beat under your touch. 

You brought your right hand to her trousers, easily slipping past the loose band.

“This is not fair.” She looked down between her legs, her breathing quickening as she felt your fingers stroke at her thighs.

You gave out your own smug smile when you felt her hips rock up into your touch. 

“I just want to taste.” You whispered, repeating the same words she had said to you.

“W-what? Now?” 

You nodded your head, bringing your lips between your teeth. 

“Right now. Pull your trousers down for me.”

“God, you can make me do anything, can't you princess?”

You let out a low chuckle, your fingers still teasing at her lips.

She finally stopped at a red light. You couldn't stop the smirk on your face as she clumsily tried to pull her trousers down for you.

“Here baby, let me help. Lift your hips up.” You purred.

Alexia did as you asked, so you were able to slide her loose trousers and thongs down to the top of her knees. 

You smiled as you spotted the wet patch. “Is someone a bit wet?”

“How could I not be? You were so good for me in the restaurant, letting me play with you.” She stroked your loose hair back as she moved forward, connecting your lips in a deep kiss, her tongue easily pushing itself into your mouth. She pulled back, smiling devilishly at you.

“My good girl.” She whispered against your lips.

You pushed your hair to one side and moved forward, leaning your head down between Alexia’s spread legs. You connect your lips with her thighs, slowly making your way closer to her sex. The angle wasn't the most comfortable, but you needed the girl. 

“Merda. Wait, let me.” 

Alexia fiddles with something, allowing her seat to move slightly back, giving you both more room. Her free hand moved into your hair, pushing you back between her legs.

You take the hint and lick through her already wet folds.

“Shit.” She sighs, her fingers flex in your hair. 

Her mouth gaped open as she looked down at your head in her lap, she had seen you in this position plenty of times, but being out in public and easily being spotted made the situation just that little more thrilling.

You groan at her familiar taste, it instantly makes your mouth water. You go slow, moving your tongue easily though her essence, smearing her juices around with your tongue. The lights must have turned green as you feel Alexia’s body move above you, good thing the car is an automatic.

You flick your tongue across her swollen clit, her low groans spur you on, you easily wrap your lips around the bundle of nerves and gently stroke the flesh with the tip of your tongue.

“Bebé!” The blondes' lashes flutter in pleasure. 

You lifted your head, looking at the pretty pussy in front of you. Alexia was wet, you could see the leather seat underneath getting messy with hers and yours fluids. 

You shifted a little, getting yourself more comfortable. You leaned on your knees with your arse in the air. Alexia’s hips twitched, clearly wanting you back on her. 

“Amor, please.” Alexia begged. 

“I’m right here, baby.” You reassured her, kissing her dripping lips.

Alexia bit her bottom lip as she felt your breath ghost her wet sex, she was trying her hardest to control herself. Your loose hair was flowing down her thighs, tickling her sensitive skin, causing her to shiver. 

bobbing up and down as you sucked her into your warm mouth. 

The blonde was finding it hard to concentrate, all she could feel was your talented tongue swirling around her clit, drinking her in. She gently began to thrust her hips into your mouth, all while keeping her eyes on the road. 

You groaned loudly, loving the way she was slowly losing herself, you could hear her breathing becoming shallow. 

Your own clit was still throbbing, you could feel the air hitting the wetness on your lips. You would have loved to have seen yourself right now, being the princess you always was for Alexia. 

The blonde came to another red light, she took the opportunity to scoop your hair into her free hand. Having more control of your movements she forced you further down, needing more friction on her clit. She smirked as she watched your head bobbing up and down as you sucked her into your warm mouth. 

You whimpered when you felt her touch, trying to move the way she wanted you. She began to slowly fuck you face, pushing her hips harder into your face. 

“Sí, Sí, princesà. You’re so good, don’t stop, never stop.” She husked out.

You groaned at the fast movements, you could feel Alexia's clit twitching in your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, I can’t drive and do this.” She let out a low groan.

Alexia took a quick turn down a quiet road, quickly turning off the engine. 

She pulled over just in time as her orgasm took over her body. Both her hands grip your hair, moving you to her rhythm.

“Amor. I’m going to come, don’t stop. Keep sucking.” Her head fell back against the seat, her mouth opening as she began to pant. Alexia cried out, screaming your name as her clit pulsated in your mouth.

You didn't stop, you kept your mouth on her until she rode out the final spasm. 

Alexia tried to catch her breath, as she stroked your hair back.

“I can’t believe you had me do that.” She let out a breathless chuckle. 

You stroked your tongue over her once more, kissing her clit as you moved away. You smiled smugly as you came face to face with the blonde, her hazel eyes completely blown. 

“You spoil me in every way.” You winked as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

[sturnioz]

shy!reader has been pretty much m.i.a all week, and fratboy!chris does not care. no seriously, he doesn’t care.

he’s just kept his eyes peeled every night through crowds of sweaty bodies jammed into his living room, and even through the sluggish crowds of tired students in college hallways, yet he couldn’t find you.

it was on the 6th night when chris was seriously considering showing up at your place — for no reason just he needed your lit notes, of course —when he received a text from nick.

nick, the eldest — and no doubt more mature —triplet. chris’ eyebrows furrowed at the notification, why was nick texting him at 10:30pm on a weeknight? kid cares way too much about being on time for class in the mornings

—

Nick: *image attached* isn’t this one of your girls?

—

the somewhat blurry picture was taken from a distance in the old, dusty library on campus. you sat in a corner, a mess of notes, books and your laptop sprawled on the desk in front of you. you looked weak, your hair a mess, bags prominent under your eyes.

before chris could even react, his phone buzzed again

—

i’m not a total creeper, i’ve just noticed her here every night this week and i’m pretty sure she has not changed her sweatshirt once

or pretty much left this library.

i seriously hope this is actually her and not a complete stranger

you know what, i’m talking to her. don’t change my mind.

—

chris groaned, the realisation of finals week dawning on him. sometimes chris forgets how much college actually means to you, and how ridiculously sick it makes you.

he did not have time for this, he had customers to please, yet - he didn’t hesitate. he’s huffing and complaining pretty much the whole time, but he’s quick to make his way over to the library he’s really not too familiar with, saving you from the shackles that is a conversation with a redbull fueled nick sturniolo.

-

you can take it from here, love u pooks mwah

- 🫧

gonna take it from here in shy!readers pov cos i want nick and shy!reader to have some one on one time before fratboy!chris grumpily comes over !!

your back aches with a constant throb, your eyes feel gritty and sore, and a dull headache pulses at your temples, making it difficult for you to concentrate. hunched over in the dimly lit corner of the library, you've spent countless of hours — days — buried in textbooks, scribbles notes and laptop screens, desperately trying to absorb everything before your exams.

the week has been relentless, leaving you physically and emotionally drained, as if the weight of your studies is pressing down on you.

you haven't seen chris in almost a week. the silence has been deafening — no texts lighting up your phone, no calls breaking the quiet, and no facetime calls at late hours. truth be told, you did put your phone on do not disturb, silencing any incoming calls to shield yourself from distractions. it's not that you intended to cut off all communication completely; you simply needed space.

you needed to be alone, to gather your thoughts, and to focus on your studies, to not be distracted by his intense social life.

however, you are distracted when someone slams a stack of textbooks onto the table opposite you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. startled, you lift your tired gaze, and your heart thumps when you recognise a familiar that slumps into the seat across from you.

he runs a hand through his tousled mullet, adjusting the thin-framed glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose before flashing you a friendly grin.

you know who he is. you've seen him in countless pictures and instagram posts with chris and matt. yet, despite your familiarity with his image, you've never met him in person — you never even spoke a word to each other, and you find yourself sliding further down in your seat, a wave of awkwardness and shyness washing over you.

"hello—fuck!" nick curses as he sets his can of red bull down on the wooden table, only for it to topple over and spill a little. flustered and annoyed, he mutters under his breath, hastily dabbing at the tiny droplets on the table with the sleeve of his sweater. his eyes finally meet yours again, and he offers another grin. "hello."

"hi.." you manage to respond, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i've noticed that you're, like, constantly glued to this fucking seat, like you haven't moved the entire week—" nick pauses mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he realises how awful his wording sounds. he quickly holds up his hand, a look of urgency in his expression. "i'm not a creep. i wasn't staring at you. i know you—i think i know you—no, i do know you. you're, like, kinda with my brother. chris. that's you, right? god, tell me that's you, 'cos i'm gonna end up losing my mind—"

"yeah," you cut off his intense rambling, which is probably fuelled by the red bull he keeps fidgeting with. "that... that's me, yeah."

nick blinks at you in silence for a moment before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and he bluntly says. "wow, you really are quiet," you become a little flustered at that, tearing your gaze away from him until he asks incredulously. "the fuck are you doing with chris of all people?"

a subtle smile pulls at your lips at that, especially when you glance back at his face and see the shock etched across it. honestly, you don't even know what you're doing with chris, but it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to go into the details with his brother. so, you simply shrug your shoulders in response.

nick suddenly deadpans. "blink twice if you need my help."

now that makes you laugh — a genuine, unexpected sound that splutters past your lips. you quickly cover your mouth, eyes widening as the sound echoes through the library and you glance around, paranoid that someone might shoot you the dirtiest look and demand you to shut up or leave.

but nick waves it off dismissively when he notices your worries, "they can go fuck themselves."

you remain silent for a moment, considering his words, before stating, "we... are in a library."

"then they can go fuck themselves quietly."

another genuine, but quieter, laugh escapes you. you find yourself relaxing a bit more with him, opening up and feeling more comfortable as nick takes charge of the conversation; showing genuine interest in your major, your studies, and your hobbies.

you do the same, getting to know him better, and even getting a little excited when you realise how many similarities you share. the more you chat, the more your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much. the tiredness that had once taken over you begins to fade away, replaced by a lightness you haven't felt in days, and your books and notes sit forgotten on the table.

however, your head perks up in surprise when you spot chris walking through the double doors. he's wearing a beanie on top of his head with tuffs of curly hair peeking out, a hoodie that swallows his frame, and his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

he glances around the library, his eyes finally zeroing in on you and nick at the far end of the room. you can't quite read his expression — his face stoic as he makes his way over.

he drops down in the chair beside you, and nick immediately pulls a face, shooting you a look that makes you giggle again, and chris huffs at the sound, clearly unimpressed.

"stop botherin' her," chris mutters, his foot hooking comfortably beneath your chair as he settles in.

"m'not."

chris rolls his eyes, ignoring nick's response as he turns his attention to you. he takes you in for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing as he says, "tell him he's botherin' you, kid."

you can't help but smile gently. "he's not bothering me. he's been fun.. i like his company."

"told you," nick muses across from across the table. chris snaps his head towards nick, shooting him a glare as nick lifts the can of red bull to his mouth, a smirk spreading across his lips as he adds, "bitch."

[dollarbils]

is that eilish? | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your best friend raves on about the fact your wearing her perfume.

warnings. fluff, flirting, suggestive, short

request

“why do you smell so familiar? I’ve been racking my brain all night.” you were leaning on billie’s shoulder, watching tv with her, on her couch. your hair was draped over her body so it wasn’t a shock she’d been able to smell your perfume. you couldn’t help but smile a little.

“what?” she asked when all you did was look at her grinning.

“nothing.” you lifted your shoulders.

“babe, tell me.” the nickname your best friend used so often pinched your cheeks, in this moment, making them flush.

“tell you what?” you tilted your head and she hit your face with a pillow, anything but softly.

“what perfume are you wearing? why is it such a big deal?” she was confused and it showed.

“it’s not, i don’t know why you wanna know so bad.” she sat up, her intrigue now eating at her.

“because you’re clearly embarrassed.” you laughed and she hit you with the same pillow again.

“no i’m not!” you protested as she lunged for you, causing you to fall backwards as she lay on top of you. she brought her face to your exposed neck, her breaths tickling your skin as she took in your scent.

“billie? what the fuck are you doing?” you laughed simply as her face was still buried in your neck, trying to figure out what you were wearing.

“is that eilish?” her face was in front of yours in seconds as she questioned you. her eyes were searching yours. and when you didn’t speak, she raised her eyebrows. her hands were still on your hips, she used them to balance herself on top of you. her hair dangled near your skin and you could feel every move she was making.

“oh my god it is!” she came closer to your face, searching for answers.

“so what if it is?” she stumbled a bit, not quite having built a response.

“i don’t know, it’s just unexpected.” she was smirking down at you, her eyes speaking the words she wouldn’t dare to.

“why?” it was a question she wouldn’t answer truthfully, but her answer was in her gaze.

“you’re wearing my perfume!” she looked away in disbelief, enjoying it immensely however.

“does it turn you on?” you meant it as a joke, and she knew that. but her response was anything but.

“you know it does, babe.” her smile didn’t falter and you found it hard to keep up with. her hands traveled to your waist as she let your words catch up to you.

“why do you think i wore it?” when your best friends mouth fell open in a groan, an attempt to control herself, you thought you’d pass out. she looked down at you, licking her teeth. she looked like she wanted to eat you. but you were totally okay with it. naturally.

[roanniom]

For the Road

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk

You lie in the quiet of dawn, cool rays of a hesitant sunrise filtering through the curtains, as Eddie plays with your fingers.

“I don’t want to go on tour.”

His words are so soft you almost don’t hear them muffled against your neck. It’s the first either of you have spoken since you’d woken up in each other’s arms. Distress pricks your throat.

“Why not? You’re going to have so much fun and the crowds are gonna be sick.” Your tone is cheery. You want the best for your man, even if that means feigning excitement in the face of his imminent departure.

Eddie shifts in bed in order to look at you.

“You won’t be there.”

In spite of the stubble that’s accumulated on his face over night, his crumpled expression leaves him looking boyish. Your heart aches.

“I will be there, silly. You know I’m coming to London to meet up with you.”

“Yeah, at the end of the tour,” he groans, burying his face back against your neck. The laugh you let out in response is genuine. You don’t want him to be hurting, but his petulance is endearing in this context. Plus, you secretly like knowing you aren’t the only one dreading your separation.

“I’ll just be a phone call away, you know.”

“Promise?”

You tap him till he looks up at you again so he can see your outstretched pinky. Grinning, he hooks his larger one around yours.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Eddie Munson,” you reply.

“And thinking impure thoughts about me?” Eddie asks hopefully, a wolfish grin lighting up his features. You slide your free hand down his chest and under the covers.

“I only think impure thoughts about you, babe.” You go to press against what you assumed would be his half aroused member only to find it fully rigid under your palm. You intake breath sharply with a laugh. “You’re already hard?”

“What do you expect? Your hand is on my dick.” Eddie says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world.

“Yeah, for like two seconds,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“What can I say? That’s all it takes—fuuuck.”

Eddie trails off into a groan as you wrap your hand around his length in earnest under the waistband of his boxers.

It’s only a few minutes before he’s panting, head tossed back and wavy hair sprayed out against the pillows.

“Oh fuck, just like that, baby.” His voice is low. Gruff with lust and leftover sleep. “You’ve got the magic touch, you know that?”

You hum in response. You’re too focused on the “task at hand” to let him really distract you with his praise. You’re stationed between his thighs, one hand gripping the base of his cock while the other fists up and down, squeezing and twisting over the mushroom head with a flourish each time.

Each time the tip is exposed, you flick your tongue over it, rewarded with his deep moans.

If Eddie was going to be on the road, you were going to be leaving him with plenty of material for his daydreams.

When you start bobbing up and down, taking him deeper in your mouth, that’s when his hips start bucking.

“Princess, it’s - shit - morning. You know I can’t…fuck. Can’t last long in the morning.” He attempts to push you off but you just look up with a grin, your hands still working him expertly.

“Oh I know.”

“I haven’t gotten you yet,” he practically whines, reaching to squeeze at your breast through your sleep shirt.

“I’ll sit on your face later. Right now I want you to cum, ok baby?” you ask before dropping back down to take him all the way down your throat without further warning.

Eddie gasps and his whole body jerks.

“Holy fucking…oh god. Yes ma’am.”

~*~

-

—

—-

——

I hope you enjoyed this little blurb as I get back into posting! Please let me know what you think! I’ve been gone a long time and would love to hear from you guys

[luveline]

hey love! first of all: i have to admit i started watching criminal minds for the first time earlier this year only bc of your spencer fics! can we get more stripper!reader and spencer? love your writing!!!

thank you!! It’s a slow routine. You begin in a crouch in your underwear, just like at the club. Chest to your knees, arms twisted with the backs of your hands touching. But, unlike at the club, this underwear is comfortable. There’s nobody watching, and you won’t make any tips. You don’t have a pole nor a stage. 

You run through the routine but forgo any pole tricks. You stretch for long, slow minutes, dancing from one space to another. The music in your head isn’t anything you’d play at home, but it works to keep time. You end on your knees again. 

It’s not fun. 

You stretch toward your phone and pick it up. Spencer’s texted you twice in the ten minutes you weren’t on it. 

Hi gorgeous, the first begins, do you want to sleep over? I can make you dinner. 

The second, Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever called you gorgeous before, is that weird? Please come over and pretend I didn’t say that if it was weird

A third pops up while you’re reading. Can I come get you? 

You text him back with pleasure. He’s the only guy in your life who talks to you just to talk, without thinking he could fuck you if he says enough right things, even though he has fucked you. Hi babe you can call me anything it’s not weird, I’ll come over! Not working this week, maybe I can stay two days(?) let me know so I can pack enough clothes 

You can stay all week, if you want to. I miss you 

You imagine him holding his phone, his cheeks pink with blush. 

I miss you too, you text back. 

Just bring what you want to and we can work it out later

Working it out later could mean anything with Spencer. He’s silly enough to try and put you in his clothes, and generous enough to take you shopping if it saves the time it takes to drive you home. 

You’ve packed a bag of clothes and shower things when your phone rings. Spencer’s contact photo covers the whole screen, the two of you together with your face cut out, his smile wide. You were both a teeny bit tipsy. 

“Hello?” you answer, bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Hi!” He sounds nervous. “I’m outside. Am I gonna get towed?” 

“Not if you stay in the car. I’m on my way down right now.” 

“Okay, see you in a second,” he says. 

He never looks comfortable behind a steering wheel. You aren’t sure why he doesn’t sell his car, maybe because it’s dirt cheap to maintain. He never seems happy to be driving is all. 

He smiles when you approach his door, which is better. He rolls down the window. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. You bend at the knees to see him better. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I had a weird feeling about you, like you weren’t alright.” 

You lean down further. “I’m okay.” 

He grins. You’re waiting for a kiss he doesn’t give, finding yourself a subject for his staring, completely still as his gaze follows around your face. He makes no move to kiss you, and for a moment insecurity blossoms. 

“Well, you look okay. Are you getting in? It’s cold,” he says, nodding toward the passenger side.

“No help with my bags?” you ask, closing the door when he tries to open it. “Kidding.” 

You round the hood and climb inside. Then Spencer kisses you, polite but emphatic, one on your lips and another just under your jaw as he squeezes your shoulder. You feed into them lovingly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place forever? That way I can stop missing you all the time,” he says, pulling away slowly. 

“And when the mystery is gone?” you ask. 

“I don’t want mystery with you.” 

Spencer takes your bag from your lap and shoves it into the back seat. You drop the smaller one on your shoes. 

“Do you wanna get pizza or something?” he asks. 

You hold your jaw where he’d kissed you. “Sure,” you say, tingles of his kiss lingering under your hand. 

“Or Chinese? What do you want?” 

You want more kisses, but you love that he always gives you options. “Pizza for sure. Curly fries, too. Hold my hand?” 

Spencer takes it with gusto over the gearstick, and whatever felt like it was missing earlier fills itself in. “Wait,” you say softly, before he can take the car out of park, “just…” You grab his side and drag him toward you for a hug. Holding hands wasn’t gonna be enough —Spencer doesn’t know it yet, but you love him, love how safe he makes you feel, love how fun he makes your life. You can be yourself with him, no matter who that really is.

Spencer holds you, his hand across your shoulder blade rubbing soft lines. 

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n - part.idk

Warnings: Smut, 18+, fingering, handjob (kinda), swearing, degradation

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

🎀

A/N - coz y’all seemed to like this, I’ve decided to continue it. 

Lando seemed to have a remarkable way of putting himself down, even if he had achieved the best result humanly possible. Such as when he secured pole position yesterday and he still looked downcast. 

Somehow, neither of you had said anything about the little…sexual escapade the pair of you had gotten up to recently, and you instead continued to work not all and freely. “Lando, I’ve got the paperwork for the team meeting after the race,” you said, handing him a stack of paper. 

“Cheers,” he muttered, taking them and dumping them on the side. It frustrated you how careless Lando could be, but after all, you weren’t here to control him. Just to manage his stuff. And yet, as you watched the race unfold, with the mass of team orders and the fuck off the pit strategy, you were almost horrified. 

The way the tea, guilt-tripped Lando and how pissed he looked as he stepped out the car, congratulating Lando with a half-hearted smile. You half-expected Lando to…take his anger out on something. Rather, someone. 

You. But…he didn’t. Instead, he just walked past you, going to read the papers you’d given him earlier. But it didn’t take a whole ass genius to figure out what he wanted. He’d initiated almost all of the occurrences between the pair of you. 

Maybe….maybe he wanted you to initiate it. You stood outside his door for a solid five minutes, rebating with yourself whether this was a good idea or not. Fuck it, who cared? “Lando,” you said, walking into the room as he made a noise, but said nothing. 

You huffed, a little annoyed he didn’t even look up, as you took the paper from his hands, making him finally look up. “You’re angry,” you said, seeing how pissed off he looked, both at you taking the paper, but mainly the race. 

“Media is in an hour,” you said. God, how the fuck were you supposed to initiate it? “You’re so shit at everything you do,” Lando said, rolling his eyes as your cheeks turned a light pink hue, “can’t even initiate sex, can you?”. Just hearing him say the word ‘sex’ sent a shiver through your spine. 

“Need help for everything, don’t you?” he said, pulling your wrist to pull you onto his lap. “Pathetic,” Lando rolled his eyes, pulling his belt down, grinding your hips down onto his growing bulge. 

“Lando,” you gasped as he ignored you, bunching your hair into his hand as he lifted your skirt, pulling his suit down, his cock springing between your thighs. Fuck he was huge. “D’you think I should’ve won, Y/N?” he asked, eyes fixed deeply on yours. 

Fuck, he was putting you on the spot. “I…you should’ve won,” you said, as he cupped your hand in his bigger one, bringing to round his throbbing member. “How long hybrid you wanted this?” Lando asked, bringing his lips to suck on your neck. 

“Since….since I met you,” you said quietly as he smirked, his hand round yours. “Go on,” Lando encouraged you, holding your hand as he pumped himself, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck,” he hissed, “good girl,”. The nickname itself was enough  to send shivers down your spine, as he moved you to lay on your back. 

“Always wear such small clothes,” he hissed into your ear, pulling your skirt over your ass, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Lando,” you started, not even knowing what you were gonna say as he shushed you with a small smack on your thigh. 

He kept your hand wrapped round his throbbing member, his fingers trailing up and down your sensitive, moist folds. Your hand moved in rhythmic twists up and down his member. “God, look at you,” Lando said, more to himself than you as he stared between your legs. 

“Keep going, yeah?” Lando ebbed you on, moving both of your hands onto his cock, your thumb teasing at his tip as he held you on his lap, inching his finger into your core. With the other hand, he moved his fingers to slide of your clit, gliding through your heat. 

“Fuck, Lando,” you gasped as he pumped his finger slowly inside of you, bringing his other hand to spread the juices he’d collected across his own dick, as a sort of lube. “Couldn’t even manage to initiate this yourself, could you?” he scoffed.

“All you had to do was ask,” Lando sighed, his voice full of mocking as he curled his finger against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck Lando,” you gasped, hand instinctively squeezing tighter round his member. 

You could practically feel how Lando breath hitched as he pulled his hand away from between your legs, pushing you on your back on the massage bed. “An hour before media, you said?” Lando raised a brow, “how many times can you cum in an hour?”. 

Lando clamped his hand down on your mouth to stop any moans leaving you, as he ran the head of his cock over your entrance, before sliding in gently. “So fucking tight, aren’t you?” Lando gasped, one hand sliding into your hair, the other holding your stomach flat down. 

“Lando,” you gasped, voice muffled by his hand as he slowly pulled all the way out, running his throbbing head over your clit once more, collection yout warm juices across his length, before sliding back in. 

You’d barely even had him inside of you, and the room almost smelled like sex, your small white shirt clinging to your chest and arms as Lando worked on removing it, pushing his cock back into you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips slowly going from rocking into full

-on snapping against yours, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing as he fucked you. He still had one hand on your mouth, the other throwing your shirt off, moving to cup yout tit through your bra. 

You could tell Lando liked more fonts that just his dick slamming into you, one hand on your breast and the other coming to press gently on your neck. The restriction on your airways wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but add to the pleasure. 

It was like some sort of way Lando could show you who was in  control,mas if you couldn’t even already tell with the way he was drilling into you. The feeling of his cock punching in and out of you was heavenly, you felt like you’d pass out from just the feeling of his member deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he said one hand running your hair, tugging gently to bring your head down enough for his lips to crash against his. “Lookin’ so good f’me,” Lando groaned, his voice deep as he closed his eyes, head tilting back slightly. 

Lando!s hands trailed down your body, one resting tangled between your hair, the other threading round to lay on your neck. “Come on, Y/N,” Lando said, his voice deep and gravelly, “you can do one thing good f’me, and that’s that you can cum,” Lando groaned. 

“You showed me just how well you could not long ago, baby,” he said, giving your jaw a quick kiss, before he dropped his lips to your neck, taking the supple skin between bis teeth, nipping at your sensitive skin as a small purple bruise appeared.

“Should just hire you for sex, shouldn’t I?” he asked. There was so,eating about the bitter degradation that did somehow build up pleasure in you, but you were half-hoping maybe he could be a little easier on you. 

After all, you weren’t as incompetent as he made out, in fact, nowhere near as much. “Lando,” you gasped, eyes going a little red from the tears of how hard his cock was slamming into you, his hips angled so the head of his member hit your g-spot perfectly. 

In your mind, be looked like a damn angel, his abs glinting with a thin layer of sweat, but in his mind? All he could see was you. He didn’t know why he insisted on being such a dick to you, but it was almost…attractive, seeing you upset. In some odd way. 

You could feel your body shoot into tiny spasms as your orgasm flooded through, your pussy clenching round Lando as he groaned, holding you down a little as he kissed and nipped at your neck gently.

“One more f’me,” he said, not leaving any room for question as he rolled his hips a few times, pumping in and out of you before he resumed his rapid movements. “Lando,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back slightly as his hips snapped into yours. 

You were sure Lando would be leaving bruises on your hips and thighs, your hair a mess beneath you. “I said…i did say h-how many times I can make you cum in an hour,” Lando said, looking to the clock on the wall. 

“One more, yeah?” Lando said, his words almost encouraging as he slowed down the pace of his snapping hips, now gently rocking in and out of you. “You’re such a pretty girl, Y/N,” his voice was no longer rough and commanding. 

Now…soft? This was unlike Lando. But you didn’t hate it. It was nice, having someone treat you well. You opened your mouth to say something, no words coming out as Lando rubbed soothing circles along your hips. 

“That’s it,” he said softly, “cum f’me, and we’ll go do media and I’ll clean you up after, okay?”. Your second orgasm flooded through as Lando pushed into you, once, twice, before he slid himself out, cum shooting in thick hot ropes on your abdomen. 

“Just a bit of media left,” he said, a warm smile on his face as he gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. Whether Lando wanted to be mean to you right now or not, he didn’t, 

Because he could see how hard that had been, how much he had overstimulated and pushed you, whilst he had his thumb rubbing on your sensitive clit, and he knew you needed some aftercare. 

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

moodboard

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

[pinkponyclubbb3]

Casual.

summary: Y/N finds out Chris has been sleeping with other girls when she thought they were something more than a casual thing. He ends up finding her next to a waterfall drunk and high out of her mind.

warnings: toxic Chris! smoking,drinking mentioned. nudity but no smut

this is all just fiction don’t take anything serious!

I follow Chris to his room with his phone in my hand. Tears streaming down my face. “L-look at the picture she sent me, Chris!” It was a picture of Chris sleeping naked in another girl's bed with a sheet covering his waist down and his arm resting above his head. He groans and looks at the ceiling fan. “Y/n! Have I ever asked you to be my girlfriend?” My heart is beating so fast. “No but-”

“But nothing! We’re nothing, y/n! We’re just casual!” that one word was like a stab to the heart. I can’t stop my tears from streaming down my face. I look at him in disbelief. “Casual? Was it casual when you took my virginity? Was it casual when I was the first girl you’ve introduced to your parent’s?” My voice breaking with every other word that’s coming out of my mouth. He rolls his eyes and looks at me. “It’s not my fault that you were stupid enough to think this was something more than casual.” I can feel the lump in my throat trying to stop me from crying.

“Fuck you, Chris.” I’ve never cussed before, especially not at a person, but I didn’t know any other words to express my feelings. “You know what your problem is? You’re too fucking needy. It’s pathetic. Seriously.” he scoffs.

Matt comes through the door when he hears us arguing. “Okay if we’re so ‘Casual’.” I grab Matt’s shirt and kiss him. I whisper a quick sorry before I slam Chris’s door. I grab my keys from the table and wave to Nick. “See ya.”

I slam my car door and try to slow down my breathing. I look in the center console and find three joints I stole from Chris. I’ve never had a reason to smoke but i’ve always wanted to try it. I pull out the driveway and start heading towards a gas station. I put my phone on Do Not Disturb as I hear phone calls spamming me.

Before I exit my car, I look in the mirror and try to wipe off the mascara under my eyes. I put on some lip gloss to try to look presentable. I close my car door and head inside. I decide to get my comfort snacks: goldfish, takis, Oreos, and a fruit punch to drink. As I’m passing the drinks, I notice the alcohol.

I grab a drink and put it in my basket with my snacks. I pay at the front and go back to my car. I connect my phone to the car to play Billie Eilish and fill the silence. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I keep going straight. I’m trying not to think about anything until I get somewhere to avoid spiraling.

I remember a waterfall I used to go to and decided to go there. I check the time, and it’s close to midnight, so nobody should be there. I park my car, get my tote bag from the backseat, and pack all the stuff. I open the goldfish and take a handful to my mouth. I fold my blanket so it fits in my bag.

I look in the center console for a lighter and see one that’s wrapped in a picture of me in lingerie. Chris gave it to me so we can match. I stare at it for a second and feel the lump in my throat start to form again. I sigh out loud and throw the lighter in my bag. I grab my phone to use the flash and start hiking. I know this path like the back of my hand.

As I walked, I decided to check the notifications I’d gotten, and it was a mix of Matt and Nick—none from Chris. A part of me knew he wouldn’t try to call, but there was still this little piece of me that had hope. After what feels like hours i’m finally at the top where I have the perfect view of the waterfall.

I sit down under a tree and take in the view. As I hear the water splash as it hits the rocks below me. I wrap myself in my blanket and turn on some music. I turn my phone over so a dim light shines. I continue eating my goldfish and start thinking about the events earlier. ‘you were stupid enough to think this is something more than casual’

When I met his parents, their eyes lit up as if I was the first girl they’d ever seen with him. When I was having a bad day, he would come to my house with my favorite snacks, and we’d watch movies while I’d rest my head on his chest and he told me everything would be okay.

Was that all really just casual and I was delusional?

I look through my bag and find the joints. I put one in my mouth and light it up. I inhale for a few seconds and let it sit before I exhale. I started coughing. Obviously, being new to this, my lungs weren’t used to smoke. I start drinking the fruit punch and eventually recover. I open up all my snacks and lay them out so I can easily grab them. I see the bottle of liquor and just stare.

I’ve never drank before either. I say fuck it and open the bottle. The drink burns my throat as it goes down. “Ew!” I say out loud. I start laughing out loud. As I hit the joint more the snacks are tasting like i’m eating a piece of heaven. The song ‘L'AMOUR DE MA VIE’ starts playing and I take a huge swig of the liquor .

“So you found her! Now go fall in love!” I sing and wave my hand out as those lyrics are sung.

couple hours later

I can barely keep my head up. I’m so tired. I pick up my phone for the first time since I got out the car. My vision is blurry and I can’t read the messages.

Chris<3

Where the fuck are you?

a bunch of missed calls from the triplets. I’m too tired to care. I use my tote as a pillow and throw the blanket over me. I stare at the waterfall and I’ve never felt more calm in my life. It’s as if my mind let me have a break from itself. I put another Oreo in my mouth but i’m too tired to chew so it slips out and lands on the grass. “Just five minutes.” I close my eyes to fall asleep.

————————————————————————-

I feel like I’m flying. My hair is all over the place. I smile and stretch my arms out. I open my eyes, and I’m met with beautiful blue ones. He’s carrying me bridal style. “Hi, handsome.” I slur my words. My head falls back. I look up to see the night sky that’s covered in stars. “You know how dangerous this is?” Chris says with a stern voice. I laugh at him. “If you were a dwarf, you’d be grumpy.” I laugh historically, squinting my eyes.

He gets to his car, and Matt’s in the driver's seat. Chris is in the back, and he lets me lay my head on his lap. “Wait, don’t close the door-” I lean over and throw up. I try to grab all my hair, but strands are stuck to my face. I feel a hand grip my hair to get it out of my way. I wipe my mouth, and Matt hands me a water bottle. “Thanks,” I whisper. “How’d you find me?”

“I have your location.” I scoff. “And he says we’re casual,” I tell Matt. I can’t comprehend what he replied. I don’t feel like talking. I can’t think straight. It might be the drugs in my system or the alcohol. I lay in his lap silently, staring at the back of the passenger seat. I feel him playing with my hair. Tears start trickling my eyes.

I hit his hand to stop doing that. “Don’t touch me.” He scoffs. “What’s your problem?” I sit up and immediately get dizzy. I rub my eyes, smearing whatever’s left of my mascara. “Don’t do all this shit, then just call whatever this is ‘casual,’ Chris. Because I know for a fact if this was the other way around, you’d be just as hurt.”

He’s quiet, jaw clenched. “I’ll prove it to you. Matt, pull over.” I take my shirt off. “Woah woah-” Okay, maybe not the best Idea, I tell myself. “Put your shirt back on. Jesus.” Chris pulls my shirt down. I bite my lip, trying not to laugh, still feeling the effects of the weed.

We pull up to the driveway. “What about my car?” It completely slipped my mind until I felt the keys in my pocket. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Matt opens the door and holds out his hand. “Thanks.” I take his hand, and he helps me down. “You’re gonna have to sleep in Chris’s room.” I wave a hand in Matt’s face. “I’ll take the couch.” I go through the front door and run to the couch, tripping over my foot. “The fuck is wrong with her?” Nick says. “She’s high,drunk, all the above.”

“Hi Nick, want an Oreo?” he sighs and holds out his hand. I take an Oreo out of my bra and give it to him. “Ew!” he throws the cookie on the floor. I start laughing so hard tears are coming out my eyes.

“Alright, come here. You need to change.” I follow Chris to his room. I sit on his bed while he looks through his closet. He throws me one of my black lace bras and a pair of shorts. “What kind of pajamas are these?” He throws sweats and a shirt at my face. “What the?” I laugh. He turns around, and I strip in front of him while holding eye contact. I throw on the sweats and T-shirt. I fall back on the bed and watch him turn on the light.

He takes off his shirt, leaving him in just his pajama pants, and gets into bed. He holds me in his arms and kisses my head. “Casual, my ass,” I mumble into his arm. “Go to sleep,y/n.”

————————————————————————

A/N : thank you for reading this was inspired by the song ‘Casual’ by chappell roan.

If you want to be tagged in future fics lmk in the comments . click my bio to send me a request of a fanfic u want or just anything ♥️

Tag list:

@mylove4lana @mattstromboli @gracielovssturniolo @taliaslutiolo @watercolorskyy @eliana-4200 @naisblogsblog

[wearethecyclones]

Tbh having BuckTommy thoughts on this Tuesday morning.

Imagine if their first fight comes about because Tommy gets hurt, or is presumed hurt for a bit. (Helicopter accident, Tommy ends up fine etc whatever.) Buck fusses over him a lot because he was so worried and he’s so relieved but he’s also being hypervigilant. Making sure he takes his pain killers with food, making sure he’s icing his shoulder, meal prepping for him so he can just warm stuff up, etc.

And Tommy just isn’t used to that. Tommy is used to deflecting with humor and being flippant. So we see a little of that vibe you get from him in s7. The “we’re all gonna die” and the “your dad’s alive” and the making a joke about needing a wing at the hospital for the 118 energy. (To be clear, I don’t think any of that is problematic or unkind.)

So he kinda hits Buck with a flippant comment like “maybe I should get hurt more often” or “I didn’t lose a leg this time” or whatever. And after a few of those, Buck loses his patience and is like “this is serious to me. I was scared I was going to lose you. I was scared you were going to be really hurt.” And Tommy tries to assure him like “yeah I get that, Evan, but I’m fine. You don’t have to baby me.”

And that turns into a little bit of a back and forth kinda argument. Buck saying he understands the risks of the job, he knows he’s fine this time, and this is how he’s coping with the fear and relief. Tommy saying that he understands that but he doesn’t NEED it. Buck frustrated and asking him why he’s resisting this, do they have a bigger problem here? Why are you being so flippant about this?

And finally, Tommy is just frustrated and resigned and says, “I’m not being flippant. I’m not used to this. I’ve never had this before. I don’t know what to do with it.”

Because he hasn’t really had someone to nurse him back to health since his mom or grandma when he was real tiny. And he’s always just had to shake things off and take care of himself. He didn’t even MIND that, he’s self-sufficient and tough.

Buck has always had Maddie or he’s had the 118. He’s always been hungry for the love and care and accepts it when it comes. After the lightning strike he was overwhelmed by it, sure, so he hid from it but he sought out the kind of care he actually needed and wanted instead. So he doesn’t get that.

Buck just tells Tommy, “You don’t have to do anything with it, just accept it. Or tell me to fuck off if that’s what you want.”

“It feels like it costs something.”

“With me, it doesn’t.”

“I don’t want to tell you to fuck off.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Then please let me deflect a little, I don’t know how to do this yet.”

And it’s suuuch a promise that he’ll try and that he wants to get used to Buck’s attention and care. And Buck is so sad that Tommy doesn’t know what to do with it but he’s also soooo into this guy.

End scene. I gotta stop avoiding my job now bye besties

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[icarryitin]

Hell Hath No Fury

spencer reid/gn!reader

THE CANYOUNIVERSE RETURNS FROM WAR🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

series masterlist

word count: 1.5k // warnings: a couple of swears, ya boy gets anthraxed bc we’re getting into canon events now, Foreshadowing™️ (is it foreshadowing if i’ve already posted the part that’s foreshadowed??)

summary: Spencer forgets to use his brain (again), puts his life on the line (again), and it’s down to you to remind him (again).

“I’ve got Reid on the line for you.”

Something about the way Penelope’s voice trips over his name makes your blood run cold. It’s not unusual for her to pass someone over, but it’s different this time - you can feel it in the pit of your stomach.

“Hey, you.”

Spencer barely manages to suppress a cough as he greets you over the line, and that’s how you know you’re right. God, you hate being right.

His exposure is minimal.

We can’t be sure it’s the new strain.

He dosed up with the rest of us.

You know why your team leader decided not to tell you just how bad it is but oh, Hotch is getting an earful when this is over - and he’s not the only one. Because while you’re quietly seething, while the remainder of your lunch is rolling around in your stomach, Spencer Reid is asking if you’ll check in on his mother for him. Just in case anything happens. Yeah, like you’d let it. The universe, God, whatever forces that be? They’ll have to go through you first if they want to get to him.

“I don’t think you get a dying wish if you’re not actively dying.” You sound braver than you feel, phone firmly held to your ear as you slide behind the wheel of your car. Nichol’s address isn’t far from here, Emily and Rossi can handle whatever lies within Chad Brown’s house by themselves. You have bigger fish to fry.

Fish that have a penchant for throwing themselves in front of bullets and unsubs and into anthrax riddled houses.

“But you’ll do it?” He asks, choking back yet another hacking cough that sets your teeth on edge. Of course you will, it’s a ridiculous question. You’ll call and you’ll visit and you’ll write, what’s another letter in the mail after every case anyway?

“Obviously I’ll do it,” Your eye roll is audible, you’re sure of it, “But you’re not dying, Spencer.”

You don’t say goodbye before hanging up, because you don’t need to. Because he’s going to be fine. Of course he is, frankly he’s got no choice in the matter. Even if the number of hazmat trucks at Nichols’ house sends your heart leaping into your throat.

“Respectfully, sir,” You call across the lawn the moment you’re out of the car, squinting in the sun, “You’re full of shit.”

Hotch’s face doesn’t move, but you’ve been at this long enough to register his tell. A split second twitch of his fingers grasped around his phone - he meant well, keeping the severity of the situation from you, most likely because he knew you’d drop everything. And here you are anyway, so much for his genius plan.

Speaking of genius…

You follow the trail of CDC officers, suited and booted from top to tail in PPE around you, through the maze of tents until you spot Derek - arms folded, signature eyebrows furrowed in frustration at whoever stands behind the flimsy plastic shield. As if you didn’t already know.

Spencer Reid looks reminiscent of a kicked puppy on a good day, and getting hosed down in a hazmat tent does him no favours in that department. Soaked to the bone and shivering, the state of him does nothing to quell your frustration at his actions. If anything, it starts to boil over because - well, doesn’t he know? That you’d only feel like half a person without him beside you at the round table or in the bullpen? That the early Sunday morning breakfasts keep you sane? That he’s your best friend in the world and if anything, anything, ever happened to him you wouldn’t know how to exist?

“You,” You’re breathless, suddenly, in the face of it all, “Are fucking in for it.”

He has the decency to shrink back a little from the heat of your anger and the accusatory finger you’re pointing at him, even though there’s a layer of protective plastic between you. Even Derek takes a step away from where you’ve sidled up beside him. And you let rip.

Because, for the smartest guy in every room, how could he be so stupid? Walking into a place that is almost definitely poisoned with no protective equipment is basically step one of the ‘How To Die Immediately, For Dummies’ handbook. Staying in that place is even more ridiculous.

Spencer’s relief in seeing you outweighs the anxiety tensing his muscles, even if you are bussing with the fury of a poked wasp’s nest, even if it is his fault. The very real possibility that he might have finally signed his own death warrant is softened by the sight of you, warped as it might be through the tent’s window. He finds the water warmer, the brushes softer, the incessant scrubbing gentler, just by watching you. Even your yelling is reassuring, because it means he’s not dead yet. He gets to watch you a little longer. He’s not so far gone that he misses the sunlight catching in your eyes as you rant and rave at him. It isn’t the first time you’ve struck him as beautiful, and it won’t be the last, but it doesn’t paralyse him anymore. He’s long since come to terms with that fact, Although, the thought might be a little misguided given your anger at his poor decision making.

But it’s not anger, it’s fear.

The same kind of fear that grips his heart in cold hands every time you end up on the wrong side of a gun, it’s not unfamiliar. Although Spencer’s never been on the receiving end of it from you. The fear of a loss that might be just too great to overcome, amongst all the others. You’ve mentioned, in passing, the friends that have moved on or married or simply faded away in the years you’ve been with the Bureau - it’s not uncommon, the job becomes a person’s whole life and anyone who claims otherwise is a liar. He knows it as well as anyone. You have each other, you have the team, they’re your family as much as they are his and - a nudge at his shoulder breaks his reverie.

“Can we talk about this later? I need, uh,” He struggles, there’s no way to put it delicately, “They need to scrub me down properly.”

“Well I’m not finished, so start stripping, Doctor.”

It’s his race against time versus your stone cold fury - unstoppable force, meet immovable object. Because you’re not budging, just standing there expectantly with your arms folded over your chest. Morgan breaks the stalemate after a long minute of eye contact, hands on your shoulders, steering you away with a meet you at the hospital thrown over his shoulder at Spencer. Ever the mediator.

“That was a bit dramatic, I know.”

“A bit?” Derek exclaims, and you spare yourself the embarrassment of looking him in the eye.

You’re not sure how you manage to blag your way out of the final takedown, but you do. An argument made for having a presence at the hospital, making sure the victims have received the suspected antidote, that it’s working; you decide to leave out the fact that the only thing your brain is capable of right now is wondering if Spencer is choking to death yet.

Hotch finds you after it all, sitting on a bench in the hall outside Spencer’s room. Feet tapping nervously on the floor, you’d slipped out as the doctor came in to check his numbers - you made it in the front door, you’re pretty sure you’ll be forgiven for missing out on all the needle sticking. You’re trying to collect your thoughts enough to articulate a sentence, something calm and composed instead of the anger that almost boiled over earlier. And he waits, because he knows. There’s a lot of people in this world who have a lot to say about Aaron Hotchner, but not a single one of them can claim he doesn’t know his team inside out.

“I know why you downplayed things, but this team is my family. I don’t have anybody else,” you look him dead in the eye, unwavering, even though your words tremble ever so slightly, “And I will not be lied to about it.”

There’s a beat of silence; long enough for both of you to acknowledge that he can’t promise you anything, and then he relents.

“Understood.”

You leave him sitting on the bench, digesting your words in the hustle of the hallway, in favour of the uncomfortable armchair at Spencer’s bedside. Derek joins you after a little while, and you greet him with a soft smile as he settles into the chair on Spencer’s other side. One he returns, as he always does, and you settle back into the silence. It’s a waiting game now.

“There’s an ass kicking coming your way, I hope you know that.”

Spencer has barely opened his eyes when he hears your voice, floating somewhere to his left, over the steady beeping of machines and muffled chatter. The hospital, he’s at the hospital. He’s at the hospital, and you’re here, and Morgan’s here, because //of course// you are. Where else would either of you be?

“Can it wait until I’m out of here?” His voice is hoarse at first, but it’s enough to get a giggle out of both his visitors.

“Well yeah,” You couldn’t keep the fond smile off of your face if you tried, relieved that his sense of humour has made it through intact, “I want a fair fight.

if you’ve stuck around for my 3 months of radio silence, i am kissing you on the mouth🧡🧡🧡

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

My hand is resting on Ash’s chest as we lie together in comfortable silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The quiet is soothing and I’m grateful he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, that we can just be here together.

Slowly, I begin tracing my fingers lightly across his collarbone, then up his arm stretched over his head, and back again. He closes his eyes and smiles contentedly, so I continue, brushing my fingertips back across his chest and down his abdomen.

His skin is so soft and pale, it reminds me of the flowering dogwoods that would bloom in spring at the park near the house where I grew up. I read about them in school once and became fascinated by them. I would sit in the grass underneath them and run my fingers along the white petal-like blossoms, examining the tiny flowers at their center.

I make a mental note to tell Ash about them sometime. I bet he’d love them, want to study them and draw them.

The velvety texture of his skin is contrasted by a coarse trail of jet-black hair. I follow the trail down, stopping as my hand grazes past two small scars low on his belly, just inside his hips. “What are these from?” I ask.

He glances down briefly and then rests his head back, “They’re from a hysterectomy.”

“Oh. So, you can’t—?”

“Mm-mm, you can’t get me pregnant or anything.”

“Good to know. So, if you want kids one day, you’d just have to adopt?”

“Not necessarily. I had my eggs frozen, just in case. So, I could have a biological child, I’d just need a surrogate.”

“Really? Do you think you’ll do it? Have kids?”

“Oh, god, I don’t know. I had them stored for ten years, so I have plenty of time to decide. It’s not really something I’m worried about right now.”

“Makes sense,” I whisper as my hand resumes its journey, brushing my fingertips up and down one thigh and then the other before making my way back up again, all the way up to his face, turning it gently toward me. When he opens his eyes again, before I can stop myself, I say, “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”

His eyebrows stitch together in a pained expression, “Atlas…”

I know. I know it’s not fair. I can’t say things like that if we’re “just friends”. He doesn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over his face. But look at us, we’ve already crossed so many lines tonight that the walls I’d built up are crumbling around me, and I’m not ready to put them back. Not yet. Not tonight. So, even if I shouldn’t, I have to ask, “Will you stay? Will you sleep here tonight?”

Putting his arms around me, he smiles, “Yeah, of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” I exhale, relieved. "Can I get you anything? Do you want some water?"

“Yes, actually, that would be amazing.”

“Okay, I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks. And, um, can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, it’s just out the door to your left.”

In the kitchen, I drink down a large glass of water in one breath, practically gasping by the time I finish it. As I refill it, along with a second glass for Ash, I turn my head slightly to smell myself… just in case. Thankfully, I don’t stink yet, but I’ve accumulated enough layers of sweat throughout the night that I’m certain I’ll be ripe by morning.

I glance at the bathroom door, debating, wondering if it’s a step too far, too intimate, but decide to ask him anyway.

When the door opens, I walk over to meet him on his way out.  I hand him the glass of water and he drinks it nearly as quickly as I did. “Thank you,” he says, breathless.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

“Not really, why?”

“Do you want to take a shower with me?”

“That shower?” he points to the door he just came out of, “Is there even enough room for two people?”

“Not really,” I shake my head with a smile, knowing it’s ridiculous, but still hoping he says yes.

He considers for a moment, searching my face as if he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m joking. When I don’t, he replies with a shrug, “Fuck it, sure.”

Some find it strange, but I enjoy showering with people. It’s intimate in its own way. I mean, aside from the obvious, like being naked in a small space not really meant for two people, placing hands on an arm or waist or back as we maneuver around each other. That has its own pleasures too, of course, but I like getting a glimpse into people’s routines, their daily habits. All those little things that no one else notices, or pays attention to, or has the privilege of witnessing. Like the way Ash never puts his face under the water. He tips his head back to rinse it, gets right up to the hairline, but no farther, ensuring gravity prevents the water from running down over his face.

When I ask him why, he says, “I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m drowning.” And then I understand. I remember the story he told me about nearly drowning in the ocean, how he was caught in the undertow when he was a child, how he would have died if it wasn’t for his mother.

We laugh as we awkwardly squeeze past each other, trading places so I can rinse my hair. As I stand under the water and close my eyes, I feel him place his hands gently on my abdomen, slowly tracing the lines of the muscle just below the surface with his fingertips. “Jesus, look at you,” he says, “maybe I should take up rock climbing.”

I let out a small laugh, “It’s fun. I could teach you.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s for me. It’s a shame you ever have to put clothes on, though.”

“Not tonight, I don’t.” I shut off the water quickly and then turn back to him, “I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.” He answers a little too quickly, and then adds, “Not that I have anything to wear anyway.”

“I would’ve given you something if you wanted. Too late now, though.”

He laughs as I hop out to grab a couple of towels.

After drying off, I walk over to the sink and grab a fresh toothbrush from the cabinet below. It’s brand new and still in the package. I hold it up to show it to him and then set it on the counter, “If you want,” I say before grabbing my own toothbrush and running it under the water.

He picks it up and raises his eyebrows a me, “You do this often enough that you keep these on hand, huh?”

I shake my head to reassure him, “No, they’re Dawn’s. She’s super weird about brushing her teeth all the time. She’s almost always carrying one around. There’s like ten of them down there, she won’t care if you take one.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely as he opens the package and discards it in the trash. He squeezes toothpaste along the bristles, but then stops and looks up at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really nice.” I can’t quite read the expression on his face when he says this, it’s almost as if the sentiment makes him sad.

In a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood, I tell him, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s purely selfish.”

He gives me a small smile, “Oh yeah? My breath is that bad?”

“No, I just want you to be comfortable. Because the more comfortable you are, the longer you’ll stay.” Instinctually, I lean over and kiss his forehead. I don’t know why, it just felt natural to do so, like I’d done it a hundred times before. As soon as my lips graze his skin, I know that I have. I see it. Many times, in many different places I don’t recognize. On a couch or in a bed or even standing on a beach. It feels so real that it takes me aback.  I pull away and he looks up at me with that same look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, knowing now what’s making him sad. I’m not acting like a friend; I’m acting like a boyfriend. And we both know I can’t give him that. Though, I’m starting to have trouble remembering why. Seems like it’s taking more effort not to. “We should get some sleep,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” he replies, and then turns away to brush his teeth.

I put fresh glasses of water by the bed, turn off the lamp, and lie down, turning to face the wall because I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m facing him when he comes to bed. I don’t trust myself, and I feel like I’ve done enough damage already. He’s probably upset with me, and I wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind and decided to leave.

I prepare myself for the worst when he finally comes in, but he surprises me by getting into bed, scooting over to me, and pressing his entire body against the length of mine. He wraps his arm around me and squeezes me tight, kissing the back of my shoulder. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be so sweet to me, but I’m grateful for it. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax into him as I drift off to sleep.

Prev // Next

[cosmicdahlias]

“There’s A First Time For Everything”

a ford x reader fic

minors dni

warnings: S M U T, oral

this is my first ever full length fic so go easy on me please 😩

Ford had pulled you into a passionate kiss. One hand cupping your cheek, the other wrapped around your waist. You had just come back from a date at the planetarium, Ford’s suggestion. It had been nearly a month since you two started dating and you couldn’t have been happier.

He pulled away, studying your face. He could tell something was on your mind, he could always tell.

“What’s wrong stardust?”

Ah�� stardust, you melted when he called you that. Something had indeed been consuming your thoughts all night. You blushed under his gaze, swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Well… we’ve been together for almost a month now and we still haven’t… you know…”

You let your words trail off, too nervous to complete the thought aloud. Ford stared down at you for a second before what you had shared registered and his eyes widened. Now it was his turn to blush.

“I- oh. I see.”

He paused. Then he chuckled. Taking your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“If I can be frank with you, it’s been on my mind for a while now too. If this is what you want, I would be more than happy to oblige.”

“Ford, I-“

Before you could get the words out he grabbed your waist and pressed his lips against yours. It was different than the last one, more aggressive and filled with desire. It took great willpower for him to break away. He scooped you up bridal style and carried you to his room.

He laid you down on his bed. As he stood over you he took in the sight of you, there and wanting him. He felt his cock twitch in anticipation. He lowered himself to press kisses into your neck, dragging his tongue across your smooth skin. God, he had wanted this for so long.

You moved to take off your dress but he grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“No darling, allow me.”

His rough hands began bunching up your dress as he slowly pulled it over your head. As the dress fell to the floor all he could do was just stare at the beauty that lay before him. You, in his bed, in nothing but a bra and panties. Slowly he regained his composure and began to run his rough, calloused hands over your body.

“God y/n, you look so fucking beautiful.”

You kissed him hungrily, biting his lip and eliciting a groan. Your fingers gripped the bottom of his sweater. As you lifted it off of him you admired his salt and pepper chest hair and scarred torso.

He sat you up and undid your bra, pulling it off you to reveal your breasts. Laying you back down he hooked his fingers on the hem on your panties and slid them down your thighs and ankles.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking as if he was unsure about saying something.

“What is it?” You pried

He chuckled again.

“Ahhh haha, you see it’s just that I’ve never actually been with another person before. I’ve had my experiences in my time through the portal, but never with a human. The anatomy is… different. I know enough from what I’ve read about sex, but I’ve never had the real thing.”

You smiled.

“I’m sure I can help you out. There’s a first time for everything.”

You laced your fingers in his silver locks and began to push him down to your aching pussy. As he descended he kissed his way down your body, his tongue dancing against the soft flesh. He paused at your clit and massaged it with his thumb before taking it in his mouth. His warm tongue flicked at it, making you shudder.

The sensation of his mouth on you elicited a soft moan from your parted lips. He lapped at your dripping pussy greedily. As he did so he growled against your clit, the vibrations felt incredible.

Your grip on his hair tightened and he gave another growl of approval. Between kisses and licks to your clit he whispered out

“Stars, I could spend forever between your thighs.” He groans into your pussy.

“Fuck, please do.”

All he can focus on in this moment is making you feel good, your pleasure is his. You bucked your hips against his mouth and he took this as a signal to slide two fingers inside of you. A loud moan involuntarily escaped you and you wondered for a second if you’d just woken Stan.

“Ah, hnn, Ford it feels so good.”

His fingers began to fuck you at a punishing speed, his tongue swirling rapidly around your swollen clit. You started to feel yourself getting closer to the edge as if a coil was being tightly wound, close to snapping. Any increased amount of sensation would break you, and he knew that.

He quickened the pace of both his tongue and fingers and that was enough to make the coil snap. You threw your head back and another unwilling moan drew from your lips. If Stan wasn’t awake before he definitely was now. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as Ford refused to let up, coaxing a second orgasm from you before you even had a chance to process the first one.

Slowly he withdrew his tongue and fingers and watched as the shaking mess before him came back down to Earth. He looked at you in awe, dear god you looked incredible. He wanted to savor the image of you, so full of want and lust for him.

When you’re finally half cognizant again you slowly sit up, looking him in the eyes you manage out a simple

“Pants, off.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice, he stands up and begins fumbling with his belt buckle. He starts to slide his black pants off and jesus fucking christ you did not expect him to be THAT huge. You always thought he had big dick energy but by god you don’t know how you’re going to fit him inside of you. The thought of it excites you greatly. He catches you obviously staring and lets out a laugh.

“Like what you see?”

You nod vigorously. Yes, god yes you do. You stand up and tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him into a deep kiss, his hands cupping your ass. You break away and begin to slide down on your knees. Now this is a sight Ford could get used to.

You start with the tip, taking it in your mouth and flicking your tongue. He moans your name softly and juts his hips towards you. Slowly you begin to work your way down its length and you feel your jaw protest, but elect to ignore it. He runs his fingers through your hair and lets out a shuddered breath.

“Hahhhh, fuuuuck that feels incredible.”

You bob your head up and down his shaft, the tip scraping your throat, you feel the urge to choke but breathe deeply out of your nose to ease the feeling. Ford cocks his head back in ecstasy, he might as well be on another plane of existence with how you’re making him feel. You slowly remove your mouth and he lets out a small whimper of protest as you take his cock in your hand and thumb his glistening tip before aggressively taking the full length back in your mouth and stroking his shaft.

“Hhhhh, oh my god baby who even taught you how to do that?”

His hips begin to involuntarily buck towards you, he’s moaning and cursing like a sailor. It’s taking everything to not just let himself cum in your mouth, but he wants to fuck you, he needs to feel you around his cock.

He grips your hair and pulls you off of him, you look up at him and the sight of your doe eyes looking straight into his makes him almost cum right then and there. He picks you up again and throws you down on the bed.

He climbs on top of you and once again savors the moment of you underneath him, he kisses you passionately and then whispers in your ear

“I need to be inside of you baby, and I want you to promise that you’ll tell me if I’m hurting you. Do you understand, stardust?”

That petname makes you fold instantly, fuck he could do anything he wanted to you and you’d say thank you.

He lines his tip with your entrance and slowly guides his way into you, you suck in a sharp breath as you adjust to his massive girth. My god does it feel good. He slides himself all the way in, down to the hilt. He rests there for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

He starts to move with a slow rhythm and you feel yourself tighten around him. Your hips buck against him in time with his, a perfect dance of ecstasy. He begins to moan filthy things into your ear.

“Oh god you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment, how badly I needed you. Every day since I asked you to be my assistant working with you has driven me crazy, just looking at you made me want to bend you over the lab bench and fuck the daylights out of you. I would have to steal myself away just to stroke my cock to the thought of you so I could focus, why else did you think I would disappear for half an hour?”

You knew he wanted you, you had been wearing shorter skirts with the hopes of getting his attention, but you had no idea it had this much of an effect on him.

He began to increase his pace, panting and breathing heavily. You gripped his biceps and as you started to moan he kissed you, muffling the sound before it could reverberate throughout the room.

He had never been a religious man for even a second of his life, but in that moment began to wonder to himself if this is what heaven felt like. He never wanted this to end, to spend forever like this buried in you would be everything.

His glasses began to fog as he felt himself getting closer. He slipped a hand underneath him to your clit, if he was going to cum he wanted to make sure you did too. You tightened around him from the mere sensation of the pads of his fingers on your clit.

He pumped faster, his fingers toying with the soft nub. He was trying to hold back for as long as he could so you could cum together. It wouldn’t take you long after cumming twice already, you could feel yourself getting there.

Ford let out a loud groan, nothing in his life had ever felt so good, he wanted to do this every day.

“Dear god you’re so warm and tight, stardust” he gasped.

Stardust, that did it. You felt yourself come undone around him. The spasms of your pussy squeezing his cock was enough to make him cum instantly. Waves of pleasure hitting both of you like a freight train. It was like the greatest high. He continued pumping his cock in you, refusing to let it end.

He kissed your neck, breathing heavily against your skin. You could feel him still throbbing inside of you. Slowly he began to pull out and you shuddered at the sensation.

He laid down next to you and pulled you up to lay on his chest, his hand stroking your back. He kissed your forehead and then the words spilled out before he had a chance to even think

“I love you, y/n”

He felt his heart skip a beat as you looked up at him, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“I mean I-“ he stammered

“I love you too, Ford”

You had both been too nervous to say it to each other and it took a passion driven spur of the moment confession to coax it out.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply before returning your head to his chest. He held you in his arms as the exhaustion of lovemaking slowly overtook the both of you.

[purplestanleypinkblanket]

Cookies:

Pairings: (DP3 Vers.) Logan Howlett x Reader

Summary: In an attempt to finish smoothing things over between you and Logan, he suggests going out to a bar. He says it’s to help you and Logan bond- but it’s actually so he can watch Vanessa work. Wade, knowing exactly what kind of drunk you are, takes advantage of your kind hearted nature to the point that you get hammered. Poor Logan finds himself taking care of you after Wade decides to try his hand at pole dancing.

Warnings: Heavy mentions of drinking, cursing, a few insults sprinkled in, Wade pole dancing, drunk reader.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,647

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“Come on guys!” Wade whined, throwing his arms over you- interrupting the scowling match between you and Logan. “It’ll be fun!”

You had work the next morning and drinking around an alcoholic Wolverine didn’t exactly sound thrilling. It didn’t exactly help that he clearly hated you. Sure, you didn’t help with your sarcastic comments and matching his glares. Hell, your friends with Wade- how could you not rebuttal Logan whenever he snapped at you?

“I can’t, I have work early tomorrow.” You stated, trying to pry yourself out of Wade’s arms.

“Bullshit.” Wade remarked. “I’ve seen you get shit-faced then hop back up like it’s nothing the next day. You’ll be fine!”

Damn. He had gotten you there. But you were also a much more responsible drinker than Wade gave you credit for. But it came at a cost…your a light weight.

“Good! It’s decided! We’ll all go out tonight! Get your best bar hopping panties on ladies, cause we’re gettin it on.” Wade cheered.

“Wade.” You huffed out, “I ain’t flashing anyone my panties.” You finally cracked a smile, finding it hard to resist his odd sense of humor. As odd as it was, though, you always found yourself cackling.

That’s how you ended up here, in a sleazy bar, wearing a dress that, frankly, shouldn’t warrant all the eyes of shameless men on you. You let out a huff, head resting in your hands as you sipped your alcoholic beverage. Logan sat next to you at the dark oak bar. It was the spot Wade had insisted he take. The partying lights of the dance floor low as Vanessa danced on a pole. You watched as Wade basically threw the same one dollar repeatedly at her, rushing to scurry it back up before throwing it again.

The air between you and Logan, who was sipping at a glass of beer, was less than welcoming. Your eyes analyzed him, the way he looked. He seemed so tired, so defeated, yet alive. Even more so these days as he grew accustomed to life with Wade.

Despite the various martini’s and strong drinks Wade had left not-so-subtly on the bar by you, you had done a fairly decent job at pacing yourself. It wasn’t until Wade’s hand was snatching the water glass from your hand and replacing it with a martini that reeked strongly of booze that you finally guessed his game. He wanted you drunk. And he only brought you two here to see Vanessa dance. You moved to dismiss the drink.

“Wade, I don’t-“

“Drink!” Wade adamantly flashed you his puppy dog eyes, knowing full well if you were tipsy enough you’d fall for it. With a sigh, it turned out you were as you brought the martini to your lips. The more Wade handed you drinks, the more you drank. The more you drank, well, hadn’t everyone heard the story? Needless to say, it wasn’t long before you were slumped over on the bar, giggling to yourself as you looked past Logan to watch Wade try to dance on a pole. He had finesse, but you didn’t miss the way his foot failed to land.

Logan watched you, eyes filled with judgement. He couldn’t believe all it took was a few drinks. His eyes scanned the bar, scowling at anyone who looked at you. He didn’t know why he suddenly hated every man in this bar that looked your way. He told himself it was because you were clearly shit-faced, hell, it looked like you were about to fall off your fucking chair. Logan sure as hell wasn’t about to let some weak ass man who didn’t know how to talk to a woman worm their way into your skirt. Which, by the way, looked bloody amazing. He even found himself struggling not to look at you.

Your voice broke through the tense situation as he glared at any man he could see, “L-,” you hiccuped, “Logan. Why do you hate me?” Your question caught him off guard, a look of confusion passing over his face as he tilted his head. Logan’s eyes looked down at where you rested against the bar, face flushed from alcohol, head resting on your arms. Your cheek was smooshed slightly from where it rested between your arm and the bar top.

“I don’t hate you.” He huffed out, looking away as he brought the beer glass to his lips.

“You act like it.” You couldn’t help the drunk pout on your lips, eyes analyzing Logan from where you rested. His jawline, with the mangy beard that somehow looked damn good.

Logon scoffed. He couldn’t help that he didn’t like you. You were bitchy, and sarcastic, and- his thoughts were interrupted by you suddenly leaning into his side, an exhale on your lips.

“I wished I knew what I did to make you hate me so much, Logan.” You drunkenly confided to him, drawing his attention to you once more. Suddenly, he was aware of the closeness between you two. Of how easily you were to banter with, even if it was in an argument. And you were funny. Logan loved when you would call Wade out. His hand moved to rest on the back of your barstool, his hand resting next to your shoulder in case you happened to fall over.

“I don’t hate you, doll.” Logon sighed, looking down as you lifted another drink to your lips.

“I want cookies.” You stated, not paying much mind to his words. Your mind wandered too fast to truly pay much attention. Not like it could anyway, Wade made sure you were drunk. He knew how you got when you were wasted, you were honest, idiotic, and incredibly cuddly.

“They don’t have cookies.” Logan grumbled, hand moving to rub his face in irritation after it set the beer down.

“They should.” You adamantly decided, head slumping against his chest as you looked towards where Wade and Vanessa pole danced together.

Logan mumbled a rough ‘Hm’, his gaze analyzing your flushed face as you watched Wade and Vanessa. He watched you lean forward, reaching for the shot some creep had bought you. Logan reached for it, taking it from you and sliding it to the side. “Alright, that’s enough, princess.”

“What, no, hey!” You pouted with a drunk huff, reaching for the shot. However, Logan’s hand grasped your wrist after he set the shot down, pulling it away.

“Princess.” He roughly warned, hand on the back of your barstool moving to push your shoulder subtly, causing you to lean back into him.

You melted into his touch, relishing the almost body-heater warmth of him.

“Your warm.” The drunk words were out of your lips before you could really stop them.

Logan nodded with a hum, “I know.”

“I want cookies.”

“I know.”

Silence fell over the two of you. Logan didn’t want to admit it, but he felt rather content with you leaning against him- even if it was because of Wade getting you hammered. He enjoyed how it felt, having a gorgeous woman by his side. It was also nice knowing the sight of you leaning into him scared off anyone who thought about approaching you.

The moment was ruined when the song ‘Tragedy’ by The Bee Gees began playing. It seems everyone had been impacted by the release of the latest Beetlejuice movie.

“I love this song!” You drunkenly erupted, grinning as you moved to hop off the barstool, practically falling as you did so. Logan was quick to move, his hand wrapping on your arm to prevent you from falling.

“Where in hell do you think you’re going?” He growled at you, unamused.

“I’m going to dance!” You giggled, hands grasping his as you tugged him to the dance floor. Logan, despite his grumbles, let you pull him along. He didn’t need some creep coming over when you’re less than aware. When you two got to the dance floor, his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. You were practically next to the stage that Wade and Vanessa pole danced on.

You jumped, you swayed, you did every move you knew- most of which Logan just assumed you made up on the spot. Your arms in the air, by your sides, in front of you, behind you. Logan was almost certain he watched you do the Macarena at some point. He kept a hand on your waist at all times.

“Why ain’t you dancing?” You asked, facing him with a frown, swaying slightly.

“I don’t dance.” He huffed back, unamused.

You flashed Logan your best, and visibly drunk, puppy eyes. After a moment of internal battle, his hands gently rested on your hips, swaying with you just slightly. It was the best you’d get and it’d be a lie to say you weren’t satisfied with the awkward sway. It didn’t fit the music. Not even close, but you got the Logan Howlett to dance with you!

After a moment, your arms moved to drape over his shoulders, closing any distance between the two of you as your head rested against him.

“Lo?” You mumbled softly against him. It was a new nickname, something you had never used before. He felt his heart hammer in his chest for a split second when he looked down at you.

“Yes, princess?” He asked, forcing his tone to be less rough.

“Can we get cookies later?” Your voice was muffled as you drunkenly held him tighter. His heart clenched and he found himself wishing he had cookies with him right then.

“Of course.” He murmured as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your head.

It was a lie to say he hated you. In fact, he liked the way you irritated him. He only hoped that you continued to banter with him. Lord knows he didn’t feel like he deserved it.