#shes so beautiful and funny and so charming and will never get written if not because of my current fic workload like oughhh

[yzzart]

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

[filmsmakkari]

your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases. 

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again. 

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the  Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini. 

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

-

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game. 

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll.  “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?” 

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

-

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare.  “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it. 

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’ 

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly. 

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable. 

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke. 

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my  mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the hottest man north of havana

pairing: cabana boy! javi x rich older woman! reader

cws/tags: oral f! receiving, p in v, (semi) public sex, young (adult) javi!!, cheating (reader has a husband but he is prob cheating too and sucks)

summary: lonely rich woman at country club while her husband is away has a thing for the cabana boy

a/n: title reference to copacabana by barry manilow (that's either really obvious or really not obvious idk). obv you should listen to that while reading (long version) and margaritaville bc mentioned as well, but i listened to a lot of steely dan while writing this?? so, do with that what you will

*the cosmo article referenced is real and i have it saved to my computer and might post it bc it's so funny

wc: 3.6k

thank you @almostempty for your help on this one <3

taglist | ko-fi | masterlist

Your husband’s away on ‘business’. AKA he’s in bed with a girl half his age a couple thousand miles away from where you sit on a lounge chair by the country club pool. It fazes you less than it should, but women like you don’t marry men like him for love. Or, at least, you don’t stay married for love. Half the women, wearing designer swimsuits and oversized sunglasses to hide aging under eye bags, are with their husbands for money too. The only difference is that you’re willing to be honest about these things. 

Honestly, the new cabana boy is handsome. They usually are, but this one has a certain charm that has you hiding behind an issue of Vogue to sneak a peek at his toned body when he’s not looking in your direction. 

In your persistent delusion, he pays special attention to you. He delivers fresh towels to the women on the other side of the pool, but he never lingers around them like he does with you. That pretty grin is genuine, you tell yourself, he’s not only working for tips. 

He nearly startles you when he comes by to offer you a refill of your margarita, a dizzyingly beautiful concoction since the bartender never skimps on the tequila, at least not when you’re the one ordering. He surely has a thing for you, or the way your tits look in a bikini, especially when they’re pressed up against the counter as you call his name.

“I really shouldn’t,” you say with a smile that begs him to convince you to have another. “It’s too early for more alcohol.”

“What’s that saying… ‘it’s 5 o’clock somewhere’?”

“Sure, in Margaritaville. I think we’re still a couple hours behind, though.”

“I’ll be back in a couple hours, then,” he says, taking your glass from the table beside you. “In the meantime, can I get you anything else?”

You can think of many things you’d love him to get you, but you settle for a seltzer with lime. 

You take a short nap and when you wake up, you know exactly what time it is because Jimmy Buffet is playing through the speakers to let you know, in addition to cabana boy who is humming along to the tune.

Your knight in a tightly fitting t-shirt approaches swiftly with your drink already in hand.

“How’d you know?” you ask, coyly, before taking a tiny sip. 

“What can I say? I know how to please a woman,” he says with a wink. 

You smile through the scoff you give him. “Alright, cabana boy, don’t let it get to your head.”

You learn his name the next day when you overhear one of the women you used to play tennis with bitching to him about this or that. 

“Javier,” you say as he walks past. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, turning on his heels with a look of relief on his face. 

“I heard you getting an earful back there. What’d you do to earn that?” 

Knowing her, whatever he did shouldn’t have landed him on anyone’s shitlist, but she’s got just about every name in the phonebook written down. 

“She requested an extra towel and a bottle of water to be brought to her in the women’s locker room, but I wasn’t very prompt.”

“Risking your tips, aren’t you?” you tut, teasingly. 

“Doesn’t usually tip me anyway,” he says under his breath, looking off to the side, pretending the confession isn’t meant for your ears.

“Oof. Even you can’t win her over,” you say with a pout.

“Suppose I was wrong about the whole ‘knowing how to please a woman’ thing,” he says with a faux-dramatic sigh. 

“I suppose so,” you say. Sitting upright so he can hear your voice when you say much lower, “but, you’ve really tugged on my heartstrings here, so I give you my deepest sympathies.” You grab a couple twenties from your wallet and hand them to him. 

“Pity tips,” he muses, a smirk tugging at his lips as he plays along with your little game, “I’ll bring you another sob story with your next drink.” 

The wink he gives you is his way of saying ‘thank you’. 

While you’re acutely aware of the power dynamic between the two of you, it does feel like he’s become a confidant in a way. You’d be far happier with his company than anyone else’s. 

While you’re in the midst of reading the latest issue of Cosmopolitan, Javier comes by to check up on you - something he seems to do more frequently now. Maybe it’s the tips, maybe it’s the tits. 

“Is it any good?” he asks, nodding to your magazine. 

“About as good as trashy magazines get. Why? Were you looking for some fashion advice, sex tips, embarrassing breakup confessions?” You offer up the gifts promised on the outer cover, nonchalant with equal attention paid to each, hopefully masking the fact that one of those topics is far more interesting than the others when you’re up close and personal with the effortlessly handsome Javier. 

Your eyes meet briefly at the mention of sex tips. 

“Hmm. How ‘bout those sex tips?”

“Alright, then,” you say, patting the spot beside you, beckoning him to sit. “Here are the best places to have hot summer sex…”

You can feel his body heat, his hand placed behind your body to hold himself steady as he leans in to read over your shoulder, pretending to be enthralled with this stupid article. 

“Number one,” you begin, “in the water.”

“A classic,” he notes, looking towards the pool only a few feet from you. 

“It says here that the ‘dirty mermaid’ position is ideal.” You point to the illustration of a couple getting it on. 

“Seems simple enough.”

“Wait ‘til you hear this,” you say, pausing for suspense, “their next suggestion is sex on a trampoline.”

“I can see the appeal,” he says. 

“Okay, well, then you better try out ‘the circus freak’ position the next time you have a rendezvous on a trampoline.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case the circumstance arises.”

And just when you think you’ve got him to yourself, he’s whisked away from you by another dissatisfied country club member - maybe she’s jealous, you think,  until she gives you a sneer and then, you’re positively certain she is. Before he departs fully, he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let me know if you find anything you think I might like in there.”

The magazine tells you to fuck in a tent, on a sailboat, or in the woods, but all you want is Javier, right here, right now - be it the dirty mermaid, the circus freak, or just a man and a woman unable to ignore their overwhelming attraction to each other. 

Alas, you go home alone. The only one to touch you that night is your vibrator, and no matter how creative your imagination can be, you can tell the difference between silicone and the real deal. 

You return to your spot by the pool the very next day. Usually, you can apply your suntan lotion by yourself, albeit with some difficulty, but today, you struggle to get the part of your back that would normally be covered by your swimsuit - but of course, you know to avoid tan lines you need to keep your top off and your tits pressed to the towel. 

“Need any help?” Javier asks at a most opportune time.  

“Maybe a little, but let me just lay down first. I don’t want to flash you or anyone else.”

“It wouldn’t bother me at all, but I’m a gentleman, so I’d look away if you asked me.”

“I didn’t take you for a gentleman.”

“I could be one. If that’s what you’re into.”

You struggle to get your top off enough to put lotion on without exposing yourself, and Javier whispers to you, “Just take it off. No one’s around.”

You look at him, suspicious - and excited - about his motives. 

“I’ll be a gentleman,” he reiterates. 

“You better be,” you say with a face that dares him not to be  one, before turning and taking your top off. 

Javier takes the bottle of suntan lotion and squeezes a dollop onto his hand before rubbing it from your shoulders down your upper back, remaining cautious not to touch you anywhere too scandalous. Still, his touch lingers and he begins to massage your tense muscles. 

“Wow,” he says, “You’ve got a serious knot right here. What’s got you so tense?”

“A masseuse and a shrink?” you tease, expertly avoiding the question. “Javier, you’re really working overtime.”

“I’m just trying to build a good rapport with one of our most loyal members. It’s part of my job description.”

You suppose it is, but he’s surpassed ‘good rapport’ and made it to the number one spot on the list of men you have sexual fantasies about. You want to give him more than cash tips or sex tips. You also want to take far more than the tip from him. 

So, you keep him beside you for longer by letting him see deeper into your life as he shifts his touch. 

“Well, if you really want to hear all of my life’s hardships - Ooh, yes, right there - I’ll spill.”

You swear you can hear him inhale a sharp breath when you tell him where you want his hands. 

“Right here?” he asks, tentatively pressing his thumbs in more forcefully. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you say. “You’re doing great, Javier.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, but you’ve heard those words enough times to know that his voice is different this time. That he’s affected by your praise. 

“It’s so stupid,” you begin with a light laugh, “I’m just pissed off at my husband.”

“Oh?” he says with a hint of disappointment in his tone. 

“Yeah, he’s off on ‘business’,” you say, air quotes included, “but we all know what that means.”

“Do we?” he asks, and he may have said something else, but you cut him off. 

“Ooh, down a little bit, babe.” The pet name slips from your lips accidentally, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

He moves his fingers to the perfect spot and you nearly moan. 

“I can’t believe your husband would give up spending a day with you, especially… one like this…”

“One like what?” you ask, curiosity piqued. 

“Ma’am, I’ll be honest, you look great in this swimsuit.” When he hears your laugh, he adds, “I swear. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“Well, Javier, I’m halfway out of this swimsuit right now.”

“As a gentleman, I wouldn’t dare take a peek, but I imagine you look even better like this.”

But you know he’d love to - as would you. You imagine there’s a tent forming in his uniform swim trunks. 

“I know I was planning to lie on my stomach, but would you mind getting my chest as well,” you suggest. 

“It would be my pleasure,” he says. 

You turn to him, revealing your naked upper body, simultaneously praying that the pool area is empty and that it’s crowded with women who’d certainly be jealous of what’s going on between you and the cabana boy. 

You’d think he’d never seen a pair of tits before if you saw his face - absolutely awestruck, unable to tear his eyes away from them. 

At your request, he gently massages them. 

“Goddamn, your husband is lucky,” he says under his breath. 

“Is he?” you say. “You’re the one touching me right now.”

His hands trail down your sides, testing the waters. 

“It’s a hot day… you don’t wanna get burned… so maybe you’d like me to get your thighs too? Just to be safe?”

You never thought you’d have a man begging just to touch your thighs, but you can’t complain. 

“You’re so thoughtful,” you say, “if you don’t mind, that’d be wonderful.”

You can tell he’s itching to get your swimsuit bottoms off. 

You whisper to him, “You can take them off if you want.”

“But my hands are covered in sunscreen. I wouldn’t want to give you an infection or anything.”

“You have a mouth, don’t you?”

His brown eyes melt as he eagerly dives between your thighs without another word.

His tongue works wonders as it glides over your folds, paying special attention to your clit, flicking his tongue teasingly, then sucking lightly. You realize how large his hands are when he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you into him. You’re fixated on his fingers, how badly you wish he could give you them.  

“Javier,” you say, “I want you to fuck me.”

(If you weren’t so needy, you’d beg to get on your knees, to scrape them on the concrete, and to suck him off. He serves you too often, you owe him more than just tips).

When your vulgar language reaches his ears, he looks up at you, wiping the shock off his face with a hand through his hair. He looks excited from his eyes to his shorts as you give him the once-over. YOu quickly slip your bikini back on before he takes your hand and leads you to a slightly more secluded part of the pool. Anyone who swims nearby could see you, but women further away with their noses in their trashy romance novels (when they’re not stuck in everyone else’s business), won’t be able to tell who is getting it on behind the waterfall. 

No, it doesn’t look even close to as gorgeous as the tropical destinations you’ve visited, but it does conceal your identity. And, Javier looks better than any man you’ve ever seen. The country club made an active decision to hire hot young men who could easily be printed on an advertisement in one of those stores in the mall that you no longer frequent - you’ve outgrown the overbearing scent of cologne and the juvenile style. Last summer, there was a blond pool boy, the summer before, he had blue eyes. But, Javier is something else - he’s a walking wet dream. And he’s yours. 

The water is cold, particularly so when you’re in a shady area, but Javier’s sun-warmed chest pressed against yours keeps you from shivering. And, with every subtle touch, heat pools at your core. 

When you’re submerged in the water, he slides your bikini bottoms to the side and lowers his swimsuit just enough to free his cock. You can’t resist the urge to touch him, so you stroke him slowly and you can tell he’s holding back pretty moans that you’d die to hear.  

Before he can lose himself to the feeling, he picks you up and you hook your legs around his hips. He keeps you close to him, not letting your back scrape the edge of the pool behind you. His grip is firm but his touch is soft. 

You coax his cock to your entrance, and he lets you, but not without warning.

“If we do this, I’m gonna need you to be real fucking quiet.”

“Same to you.” Your voice falters as he slides the head along your folds. 

Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less if everyone in the general vicinity heard the moans you hold back - in fact, you’re proud to be the one in Javier’s arms - but you try your best to collect yourself, to pretend the first inch, the initial stretch, doesn’t faze you. Even the anticipation of being filled by him makes you clench around him, your body trying to pull him closer, ignoring your intentions to keep up this coy persona with a quip readily stowed just behind your lips when he says something flirtatious and witty. You want to be the one to make him blush.

It is the opposite of sex with your husband. Not only because Javier is younger and far more attractive, but because you have to make an active effort not to cum too quickly when his fingers reach between your bodies and find your clit. You’ve spent years faking orgasms with your eyes closed, imagining a man like this is the one panting above you. Better make it last. 

Javier’s hands have a steady grip on your hips, forcing them to meet his with every thrust while your arms take place on his shoulders. You lean in and kiss his neck, eliciting the slightest moan, and you have to hold yourself back from sucking at his skin. You want to hear him, you want to mark him. You want to make him yours. 

You hear the clop clop sound of sandals approaching accompanied by a pair of feminine voices. It snaps you from the momentary daze and what is meant to be a warning comes out like a whimper. 

“Javi,” you say, and the sound of his name coming from your lips only spurs him on. 

You have to stifle your cries by burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your words are muffled but you manage to convey enough to get a response - not the one you were expecting, though.

“I don’t care,” he says. “I want them to know I’m fucking you.”

You know that Javier can have just about any woman he wants, you feel lucky to be chosen, but you know, despite his words, he wants you in secret. He’s just good at dirty talk, and you’ll gladly take the fantasy he builds for you. 

“I’m serious,” he says. “I want them to know how good I’m making you feel.”

Good would be an understatement. Pleasure ripples through you, threatening to push you over the edge, into an intense orgasm. He angles his hips so that every time his cock fills you, it strokes your g-spot along the way. And his fingertips work tirelessly on your clit. 

But he slows his pace, he pulls you back from the ledge.

“I wanna hear you when you cum,” he says, and he’s unable to hide his ragged breathing behind his sternness. 

He’s not demanding, he’s begging. 

And it works all too well with you. 

You meet his eyes - an agreement - and he returns to his previous routine, the one that makes your thighs tremble and your head loll back. 

“Javier…” His name flies past your lips and you wonder if you would’ve said it anyway, without his direction. It comes out in a desperate cry — one that covers up any noise that comes from Javier. You only catch the latter end of his orgasm, taken entirely by your own, but his face will be forever etched into your mind, in that corner that you keep secret and sacred. 

All of a sudden, in your post-orgasm haze, Javier pushes you gently into the waterfall, so you end up soaked (in a new way). You understand why when he pulls you out of the pool bridal style. 

As everyone in the area gawks at you, likely having heard you scream Javier’s name, he acts like the hero he is. 

“Someone had a few too many drinks,” he announces. “Luckily, no CPR is needed, but I’ll be taking her to the med station for a checkup. Everyone may resume their regularly scheduled lounging.”

There are whispers amongst the crowd - there always are - but you’re impressed by his acting. 

When he sits you down on a chair meant for the aftermath of swimming-related accidents (most of which result in nothing more than a bandaid), he says to you, “It’s important to stay sober if you don’t want to end up in sticky situations.”

“Sticky situations like the one on the front of your shorts?”

“Goddammit,” he says with a sigh. “They’re gonna fire me.”

“I hope it was worth it,” you say. 

“I’d say so,” he says, but you can still see a tinge of worry in his eyes. 

“Besides,” you say, “I think I might be able to get another job.”

“Really? That’s awesome,” he perks up. “But, I’ll miss seeing you every day.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Your husband arrives home the next day and you immediately complain about how the maintenance men did a terrible job keeping the backyard pool clean. Truthfully, they really weren’t the best and you’d been thinking about finding a new pool boy anyway. 

When your husband goes to look up ‘pool maintenance in my area’, you say, as nonchalantly as you can, “I heard that one of the cabana boys at the country club is quitting, and he’s actually really good at his job. He works super hard, never slacking off.”

“Alright. I trust your judgment. Maybe you can get his contact info from the club and we can ask for his rates.”

You already have his number saved in your phone so you call him and get his email address and pretend you’re calling the country club. You draft the perfect email for him to send your husband, to show him that he’s the perfect man to work for you. 

“Wow,” he says, when he receives the email. “He says here that he even offers extra services like bartending and poolside service… whatever that means. His rates look reasonable too. You did a great job, honey.”

“Thank you,” you say, accepting a kiss on the cheek from him. “I can stay home and monitor him, assuming you have to work on Monday…”

“Actually, I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving again in the morning.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“San Francisco. Another conference. But, don’t fret, I’ll be back in a week. I would love it if you stayed home when he’s here - just in case - but I trust your decisions either way.”

Needless to say, Javier is great at his job when your husband is home, and even better when he’s away. 

[strwbmei]

i can't get kafka off the brain, she's so attractive 😭 she'd be such a huge brat, testing your patience all the time with that smug grin. she deserves to get tied up, gagged, spanked, humiliated and fucked until she's crying and promising to be good 💞 she's 100% a masochist

-🌧️

I am so sorry. This was only supposed to be a short, 2-4 paragraph thirst, but then it turned into pure filth 😭😭😭 Also a bit extreme compared to other things I've written, so it might not be to most people's tastes

nsfw utc (fem reader with strap on, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, use of toys, spanking, dacriphilia, not proofread)

She'd probably rile you up on purpose just for that. There's nothing she wants more than to just lay there and get fucked senselessly until she inevitably ruins the sheets, and she knows you're perfectly willing to accommodate her. Still, getting what she wants so easily would be so boring, wouldn't it? It's not fun if you aren't seething with a kind of irritation only Kafka could make you feel and if she still has some form of control of her body.

It'd start with you tying Kafka up, a bullet vibrator pressed onto her clit. The way her moans sound through the gag is delightful; they show how much of a whore she is for you. You watch her with disinterest and indifference in her eyes, fully clothed as opposed to how the only things Kafka is wearing are a ball gag and fancy ropes of silk the color of your eyes (something she insisted on) digging into her curves and currently unblemished skin.

It's humiliating, really, being forced to feel all vulnerable and owned—but both of you know just how much she loves that. Maybe if you're in a good mood, you'll even let her cum once or twice tonight. Kafka doubts that, though, especially with how bratty she's been acting. Your patience has its limits, and Kafka wants nothing more than to push you over the very brink of it. She starts begging, vulgar and wanton; almost mocking in its tone.

Kafka thinks you've finally given in when you remove the vibrator from her puffy clit. She prides herself in her beauty, after all. No one would be able to resist her "charms" for long... right? Wrong. Instead, you push her down, knees bent so her face is pressed into the mattress while her hips are up in the air. When you start spanking her ass, she begs for the bullet vibrator again. Her abused cunt just feels so empty, fluttering around nothing as your hand leaves yet another mark on her ass. She's already so overstimulated, and you've barely even started.

The woman endures, locks of hair the color of her most favored wine cascading along her back as each moan becomes more strained than the last. Anticipation fills her lust-addled head as she feels the tip of your length rubbing against her folds. You relish in the way her back arches as you finally insert the strap-on inside her neglected cunt, not to mention the drawn-out moan she lets out. God, you're sure her facial expression right now is downright sinful—you can tell by how she's clawing at the bedsheets and eagerly moving her hips to chase yours.

But you don't move.

Why would you? Did Kafka think you'd be nice to her after all that she's done? Her whines are barely audible through the ball gag, but you hear her mention something about "how mean you always are to her." Funny. You've been patient with all of her bullshit for as long as you've remembered, yet now you're the mean one. You were planning to be a bit lenient since you felt bad for her, but she can wave goodbye to any chance of being able to use either her voice or her legs for the next few days.

"Move," you command her. "Don't you think it's time you stopped relying on me to get you off?" Kafka whimpers at your words, looking back at you with glossy eyes. You can't help but snicker in response. It's rare to see her so desperate and needy to be filled. Maybe you should do this more often? She never really learns her lesson, after all. Realizing you weren't gonna budge on your decision, she rocks her hips as much as she can with her limited range of movement. She can feel each vein and bump of the fake toy rubbing against her walls, but it just isn't enough.

It's not rough enough. Not fast enough. Not deep enough. Nowhere close to being enough, but Kafka submits to the humiliation nonetheless. She can't bring herself to care anymore, too focused on making sure to savor each and every bit of pleasure she's feeling. You look at how fervently she's fucking herself on the fake cock, and think of how you've each turned the other into fully fledged perverts. Kafka wasn't this much of a masochist before she ended up in your bed. Or was it hers? You don't remember.

She never understood the people who liked getting hurt. Kafka used to find the marks that ropes left on her skin itchy and unbearable, but now she loves reliving the memories of lust and passion whenever she sees them. She wears them with pride. You, on the other hand—have never felt like more of a degenerate. You catch yourself wanting to break her; to ruin her for anybody else. You desire to know her body in a way completely exclusive to you. You want to own her; mind, body, and soul.

The past few minutes are a blur. Without realizing, you've been fucking Kafka senseless as she sobs from the overstimulation. The smell of sex fills the air as does the sound of your hips colliding with the fat of her ass. You thrust as quickly as you can, much to the other woman's pleasure, but the tightness of her pussy makes it more difficult than it usually is. You've been holding her over the brink for a while now—you're not sure how long exactly, but enough for her legs to be shaking and for her knees to give out. If not for your hands settling themselves on her waist, she would've toppled over. Kafka is powerless, and she loves it.

When you see her cum form a white ring on the base of your strap, you know you've found another excuse to fuck her dumb, and you plan on making full use of it.

[nayziiz]

Hi I dunno if you’re taking requests but if you are do you think you could do a smut one shot where either Charles or Carlos is always like super cocky and confident in public and the reader finds it funny because she always has him whimpering and whining for her in private? Maybe like a bit of a dumbification kink too? Thank youuu

BRAVADO | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)

Warnings: Smut, fluff, unprotected sex, dumification kink

Author's Note: Yes, please send in your requests! I might take a few days to write it, but I will try to do it justice - I hope you like it anon! I haven't written anything for a dumification kink, so I tried my best here.

Masterlist

Carlos's public bravado could fill a room, his confidence radiated like a beacon wherever he went. With a swagger in his step and a smirk on his lips, he commanded attention effortlessly. His words dripped with self-assurance, and his demeanour exuded an air of invincibility. To the outside world, he was the epitome of cool, a picture of unshakable confidence. 

When she was with him, Carlos's bravado seemed to reach new heights, as if her presence ignited a fire within him that fueled his confidence to soar even higher. In her company, he appeared even more self-assured, his swagger more pronounced, and his demeanour more assertive.

It was as though being around her amplified his sense of power and invincibility, emboldening him to push the boundaries of his bravado to the extreme. With her by his side, he revelled in the attention, basking in the admiration that her presence seemed to command. With her radiant beauty and magnetic presence, she effortlessly commanded attention wherever she went. Her grace and allure were undeniable, drawing eyes to her like moths to a flame. And when she stood by Carlos's side, his chest swelled with pride, basking in the glow of her admiration.

He loved the way heads turned when they entered a room together, the whispers and stares that followed in their wake. It was as if her beauty cast a spotlight on him, elevating his own presence in the eyes of others.

As they arrived at the Chinese Grand Prix, the pair strolled hand-in-hand, their presence commanding attention from the moment they stepped foot onto the bustling scene. The cameras surrounded them almost immediately, eager to capture every moment of their presence at the prestigious event. Reporters clamoured for interviews, fans reached out for autographs, and photographers vied for the perfect shot, all vying to capture the essence of their undeniable chemistry and charm.

Yet, amidst the chaos, Carlos remained unfazed, his hand firmly clasped in hers as they navigated the sea of attention together. For him, there was no greater thrill than sharing these moments with the one he loved, basking in the adoration and admiration that surrounded them.

As the press clamoured to ask her questions or get her opinion on his season, his cocky demeanour came to the forefront like a shield protecting the one he held dear. With a sly grin and a twinkle in his eye, he deflected questions and bantered with reporters, his confidence unwavering even in the face of scrutiny.

Yet, beneath the surface, his protective instincts kicked into overdrive, a fierce guardian watching over her every move. While he showed her off like nobody's business, he was quick to intervene if he sensed any discomfort or intrusion. His swagger masked a vigilant eye, ready to step in at a moment's notice to ensure her comfort and safety. He may have enjoyed the attention too much at times, but his priority was always her well-being, his protective instincts kicking in instinctively whenever she was in the spotlight.

As they made their way through the bustling paddock, the love of her life exuded an aura of confidence and charm that never failed to captivate her. She couldn't help but chuckle at his swagger, amused by the juxtaposition of his public persona and his private demeanour.

Though she adored seeing him command attention in the paddock and on the racetrack, it was in their private moments that she truly enjoyed his company. Behind closed doors, he transformed into a different man—a man who succumbed to her every whim and desire, his bravado melting away to reveal a vulnerable, obedient side.

She loved the dichotomy of their relationship, the way he projected strength and confidence to the world, yet willingly became her devoted servant in private. It was a dynamic that brought them closer together, a secret bond shared only between them.

Once they were behind the closed doors of his driver's room, the air between them shifted, charged with a mix of anticipation and intimacy. She wasted no time in teasing him gently, her words carrying a hint of playful admonition.

“You better do well today,” she told him, her tone laced with a mixture of teasing and encouragement. It was a familiar refrain, a gentle reminder of the high expectations that surrounded him on race day.

Carlos's bravado, already softened by their private moment together, melted away completely as he gazed at her. In that moment, there was no need for pretence or posturing—just the raw honesty of their connection.

A knowing look passed between them, an unspoken understanding of the pressures he faced and the support she offered. In her eyes, he found reassurance and strength, a silent promise that no matter the outcome, he would always have her unwavering support.

In the hushed intimacy of their darkened hotel room later that night, the atmosphere crackled with electricity as she straddled him, her movements deliberate and enticing. With a playful glint in her eyes, she pinned his hands above his head, a subtle display of power that sent a thrill coursing through him.

Carlos's breath came in ragged gasps, his body tense with anticipation as she hovered above him, her proximity driving him to the brink of madness. Despite the exhaustion of the day's events, he was acutely aware of every sensation, every touch sending shivers down his spine.

She was intoxicating, her presence filling the room with a heady mix of desire and longing. With each movement, she teased and tantalised, her touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

“Tell me how much you want it, Carlos.” She murmured against the skin of his neck as she hovered over him..

The heat of her breath against him sent a surge of arousal pulsing through him, igniting a fire within that threatened to consume him entirely.

As she ground against him, her movements deliberate and tantalising, Carlos felt himself teetering on the edge of control. The sensation of her grinding over his swollen and throbbing cock was almost too much to bear, each movement sending waves of pleasure cascading through him.

His breath hitched in his throat as he struggled to find his voice, his mind clouded with a haze of desire and longing. He wanted her with a fervour that bordered on obsession, his body aching for release as she teased him with every touch.

He was powerless beneath her, surrendering to her every whim as she drove him to the edge of ecstasy. The weight of the day's challenges faded into insignificance as he lost himself beneath her, their passion burning bright against the backdrop of the night.

“I can't wait much longer, my love,” he confessed, his voice a soft whimper that echoed with raw emotion. “I need to feel you.”

As she shifted her weight onto his throbbing cock, grinding against him with renewed intensity, Carlos's breath hitched in his throat, his body on the precipice of ecstasy. Each movement sent bolts of pleasure coursing through him, driving him to the brink of release with dizzying speed.

But just as he felt himself teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion, she shifted her movements, slowing the pace and denying him the release he so desperately craved. A low groan escaped his lips as frustration mingled with desire, his body yearning for the sweet release that remained agonisingly out of reach.

She had other plans for him, he realised, her teasing touch driving him to the brink of madness with each tantalising movement. It was a game of pleasure and restraint, a dance of desire and denial that left him trembling with need.

“Be good for me, baby.” Her words, soft and imploring, cut through the haze of desire clouding Carlos's mind, momentarily grounding him in the intensity of their shared moment. 

Despite the overwhelming urge coursing through his veins, he fought to regain control, to heed her plea and be the good, obedient lover she desired. Carlos found it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure. His body moved instinctively, his hips bucking against hers in a desperate quest for more friction, more sensation.

The need for release burned like a wildfire within him, threatening to consume him whole. With each movement, he felt himself edging closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his desire.

“Please,” he managed to choke out, his voice a hoarse whisper laden with desperation. “I need..”

“Oh, baby, listen to you losing your words for me,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she continued to tease him.

Carlos's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he realised the effect her teasing had on him. He squirmed beneath her, feeling simultaneously aroused and humiliated by his inability to articulate his desires.

But deep down, a part of him loved the sensation of being rendered speechless by her, finding a strange thrill in the loss of control. There was something undeniably intoxicating about surrendering to her will, about allowing her to dictate his every whim and desire.

As she continued to taunt him with her playful words, he felt himself growing even more aroused, his body responding eagerly to her teasing. With each passing moment, he sank deeper into the deliciously humiliating pleasure of being dominated by her, his mind consumed by thoughts of submission and surrender.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she decided to end his torture, her fingers curling around the waistband of his boxers. With a swift motion, she pulled them down, exposing his completely hardened cock to the cool air of the room.

Carlos gasped as his arousal was laid bare, his breath catching in his throat at the sudden rush of sensation. He felt exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated by the raw display of desire.

As she admired him, her gaze lingering hungrily on his throbbing length, Carlos squirmed beneath her, overcome with a heady mix of embarrassment and arousal. But there was no denying the undeniable thrill that coursed through him at the sight of her, his body responding eagerly to her touch.

With a playful smile, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He shivered at the sensation, his heart pounding with anticipation as she teased him mercilessly.

She eventually ended her onslaught of torture as she gripped his cock, firm and unyielding. Without hesitation, she sank down onto him, impaling herself on his hardness with a gasp of pleasure.

Carlos's breath hitched in his throat as she began to ride him, her movements slow and deliberate, each thrust driving him deeper into the throes of ecstasy. He clung to her desperately, his fingers digging into her hips as he surrendered himself completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him.

As she rode him with abandon, Carlos felt himself teetering on the edge of oblivion, his senses overwhelmed by the dizzying rush of sensation. He was helpless to resist her, his body a slave to her every whim as she drove him relentlessly towards the brink of release.

And then, with a guttural cry of ecstasy, he finally succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure, his climax crashing over him in a tidal wave of bliss. He pulsed helplessly inside her, his entire being consumed by the intense pleasure of their shared release.

He struggled to find his voice, his mind still clouded with the remnants of ecstasy as he tried to form a coherent response. But no words came, his tongue feeling heavy and uncooperative in his mouth. He could only gasp and moan in response to her taunts, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of their shared release.

She chuckled softly at his inability to respond, her eyes dancing with amusement as she continued to tease him mercilessly. With a playful smirk, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered tauntingly, “Come on, Carlos, where's your voice, my love? Or did I fuck it right out of you?”

Her words sent a shiver of arousal coursing through him once more, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at his inability to articulate his desires. Yet, despite the teasing, there was a warmth in her tone that reassured him of her affection, her playful banter a testament to the intimacy they shared.

As she pulled off him and nestled beside him, Carlos felt a rush of tenderness wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they basked in the warm afterglow of their passion.

“You're going to be the death of me, my love,” he whispered softly, his voice filled with a mixture of adoration and playful exasperation.

She chuckled at his words, the sound like music to his ears as she snuggled closer to him. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of her arms, Carlos felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that he was exactly where he belonged.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together in a cocoon of love and warmth, Carlos knew with absolute certainty that he would gladly risk it all for the chance to spend eternity by her side.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Judy Holliday (Born Yesterday, Bells Are Ringing)—this woman had an IQ of 172!! she was a jewish new yorker!! investigated for communist sympathies and named no names!! tony and oscar winning actress!! leonard bernstein thought of marrying her???? which part of this is not fabulous i ask you that right now

Mary Anderson (Lifeboat)—no propaganda submitted

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Judy Holliday:

Mostly remembered for beating screen legends Gloria Swanson and Bette Davis at the Oscars for her performance as ditzy blonde Billie Dawn in Born Yesterday, Judy Holliday was an incredible actress whose charm, vulnerability, and humour impressed Katharine Hepburn so much that Hepburn helped her secure the role of Billie Dawn in the screen adaptation of Born Yesterday by getting her a role in 'Adam's Rib', starring Hepburn and Tracy, when Judy was deemed 'too unknown'. Holliday was also an incredibly smart Jewish leftist, who played the ditzy blonde part again when pulled up by HUAC for 'communist sympathies'. She never named names and managed to avoid getting blacklisted. What a queen. She also had an incredible and unique voice and one of the best smiles in the business.

HOT. FUNNY. JEWISH. BLONDE. WOMAN.

She was a singer, dancer, comedienne, and Oscar-winning actress (for Born Yesterday), and she had a gorgeous curvy Cinderella vibe that is everything to me. The part of Lina Lamont in Singin' in the Rain was written for her, but after she won her Academy Award the producers realized she was far too big a star for a supporting role, so her friend Jean Hagen did a perfect impression of how Judy would play it, and she got the part!

SOMEONE PLEASE TALK ABOUT BELLS ARE RINGING??? HELLO??? THE FUNNIEST COMEDIENNE MY GOD SMART AND FUNNY AND HOT AS HELL?

Judy Holliday was the whole package--actress, singer, dancer, and comedienne--she lights up the screen in such a powerful way that she outshines everyone else. Here she is in a supporting role in Adam's Rib (1949) giving her statement to lawyer (Katharine Hepburn) on why she shot her cheating husband [editor's note: tw for domestic abuse & murder mentions] In every movie I've seen her in my heart goes out to her, she's so authentic and beautiful. She's proof that it takes smart to play dumb, and can make me laugh and cry in the same scene let alone the same movie. Film historian Bernard Dick on Holliday: "Perhaps the most important aspect of the Judy Holliday persona, both in variations of Billie Dawn and in her roles as housewife, is her vulnerability... her ability to shift her mood quickly from comic to serious is one of her greatest technical gifts." She won the Oscar for Best Actress (beating out Gloria Swanson, Bette Davis, and Anne Baxter) for her performance in Born Yesterday.

[cypheroo]

Morning Confessions | Laurence Zvhal

"Hi can I request a fic with Laurance complementing the reader but she doesn’t believe him and he tries to prove that he serious?"

Word count : 774

Tw : none?

AN : SO, I tried to follow the request :) AND I have two more Laurence ficss coming soon (a siren x Laurence one and an angsty Laurence one both of which are long asf), so I wanted to get this one written!

Laurence was so handsome…he had such a charm to him, and gosh even just a light graze of his touch would send Shivers up your spine. And he knew this, he knew because he looked at you a lot more now than before. His ‘accidental’ touches seemed to happen more now.

Some people would say he might be feeling the same way you do, but his eyes were for lord aphmau, not for you. And those thoughts alone kept you from asking him if he felt the same. He was just teasing you at this point, toying with you the way a flirt would with anyone, you and him being friends didn't make much of a difference either.

And this morning was no different, Laurence and you were both sitting in the town square, both sipping your respective drinks, chatting the early morning away. It was so nice, being able to meet with Laurence like this, sure you wished you'd be able to call this a date…but it was ok! You were content.

“Really! Come on, how long do you think Brendon will really be into kawaii-chan?” Laurence questioned, “I dunno? The real question is when another person will catch His eye” you answered jokingly. “True. I'm surprised he hasn't tried his hand at aphmau” Laurence joked before he took another sip of his drink. You Shrugged and Looked back out at the main square looking around, no one was really out this early, most still being inside asleep. It was quiet for a moment before you felt Laurence's eyes on you, you held still trying to act like you didn't notice, “your eyes look really pretty against the morning light, has anyone ever told you that?” Laurence asked, his voice a tad bit more serious this time.

You felt your stomach get butterflies over his words…his tone, and the idea that it Was directed to you? You turned your head to him and laughed softly, “and who are you trying to impress Mr?” You asked as you shook your head, “you're just being nice�� you cleared your throat trying not to sound too shaken up by his words. “No, I'm being serious. your eyes are absolutely beautiful, if you don't mind” as the last Few words of his sentence left his mouth he set his drink on the floor and slowly cupped your cheeks, forcing you to face him, “let me get a closer look, honey” the pet name rolling off his tongue easily. His eyes narrowed as he focused on your eyes.

You felt your face get warm, hell you felt your whole body get warm as the man in front of you studied your face, “your eyes are stunning” he moved his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head.

You couldn't take it as you pulled away and stood up, “oh wow, haha. Funny joke Laurence you can quit it now” you waved him off and faced away from him, trying to calm yourself down.

“joke?” Laurence joined you in standing up. “I'm not kidding. seriously” he insisted. Before you looked back at him with some fake unimpressed look. “Laurence you gotta stop testing out your little pick up lines on me” you said with a small smile and furrowed brows. Your look was matched with laurences confused look, “testing? You think I'm testing them on you?” He asked, almost flabbergasted. “yeah? For lord aphmau, you know full well she'd never let you cup her face like that” you continued with a small hum.

Laurence was quiet for a while, he was absolutely surprised you'd even bring lord aphmau into this when he had been trying to hint at you for months about his feelings about you.

“none of anything I've said to you has been for testing, not for lord aphmau or anyone else.” He stated, his eyes slightly more assured, “to put it quite frankly you're the only one I've used these ‘pick up lines’ on. His words were very self assured which made you confused, “wait so…everything you've said- no way laurence” you couldn't even fathom it. “No way? No way I'm looking at you with hearts in my eyes?” Laurence joked as he crossed his arms. “No way I say these things to get you flustered?” He continued, “no way I say what I mean?” He whispered close to your ear.

You shook your head, “no that'd mean-” you started as Laurence nodded, “that I've fallen for you?” Laurence finished. He nodded with a laugh. His hand slowly grazing your shoulder as he moved in front of you, "Baby, im in love with you. And eyes don't lie. It's clear you feel the same, " he purred as he moved closer to you. "So understand my words are made for only you to hear," he continued. "So please... take my compliment?" He asked with that stupid smirk you hated to love. It was when your eyes met his once more that you slowly smiled and nodded.

Tags :

[lilithliliam]

Aizawa Shouta x student/reader

(very fluffy💕no sexual content. Love/jealousy. Declaration of love. Forbidden relationship. Secret relationships. There is a mention of minors. voluntary relationship.)

For Aizawa, every day is worse than yesterday, he can't remember the last time he took a proper shower, let alone sleep, and then there's Nezu with a new exchange student. As if he doesn't have enough idiots of his own. He had long planned to dump a lot of work on Iida and Momo and take a quiet nap in his sleeping bag. But he couldn't, he had to meet you and introduce you to the class.

And no one said that while doing this you had to take off your sleeping bag.

You came to their class with a big smile and a soft voice like an angel descended from heaven. You were definitely lovely. With such an aristocratic appearance, full lips, charming eyes and a beautiful physique. Naturally, all the students were excited, not only did they transfer someone to them after the start of the school year, she was also so beautiful. Aizawa could have sworn that he had already seen Denki and Mineta's obscene thoughts. Even Bakugou, saying rudely "What, staring" turned to the window hiding his red cheeks and ears.

You weren't at all embarrassed by their attention, and Bakugou's words didn't hurt you. It seemed funny and saying the traditional words: "Nice to meet you and please take care of me" sat down in her seat with a final smile at the strange yellow teacher.

Your beauty is the true embodiment of femininity, grace and attractiveness. You were so beautiful that you could admire for hours. You are like a valuable gift from the gods from Olympus to insignificant mortals, so that they can see the true beauty, even from afar.

Even Aizawa, who is poorly versed in beauty, understood this, and after your dazzling smile in his direction, his heart froze in his chest and his breathing quickened. A treacherous blush appeared on his cheeks, which he immediately hurried to hide behind a scarf. Perhaps it was still worth getting out of the bag, he thought, and mentally slapped his forehead for such thoughts. Why would he suddenly be ashamed of the way he looks. He's never cared before, and then you show up and he's already blushing like a fifteen-year-old in the midst of puberty.

Aizawa even decided to pull himself together and continued the lesson as if nothing had happened. He almost forgot about the case when, after all the lessons, you approached him with a request for help, because you were very behind your classmates.

He should have refused you, but God, how could he? You are all so airy and sweet asking him for help with a sweet blush on your cheeks and, of course, his duty as a teacher and a more experienced senior to help and teach you everything. Anything you ask him to. He realized that his thoughts were leading him in the wrong direction and mentally hit himself on the forehead. What is he thinking? After all, Aizawa should have asked the director to transfer you to 1B, flashed through his mind.

Over the course of your training as a hero, Aizawa's condition didn't get any better. He even tried to distance himself and ignore your existence as much as possible, but as soon as he forgot for a second, he found you nearby helping him with the papers at his own request, or the two of you chatting about everything in his office. And when you said how tied up hair suits him, he caught himself on the fact that he began to tie his hair more often and shave for no reason. And it's not because he instinctively wants to impress you clearly?! Tts

Sometimes it seemed to him that perhaps it was written on his forehead that he so desperately wants a woman for himself and that you. How else to explain that Mick is constantly teasing him for this reason, and you look at him so slyly during the lessons?

Aizawa is not the type of person who falls in love so easily, and certainly not the type of person who falls in love with her students, and certainly not the type of person who would be jealous of her peers. This is how Shota would have described himself before meeting the lady. And is it his fault that you are so beautiful and sweet to him and is it his fault that his students pay you so much attention and openly flirt with you. And when he accidentally sees you and Todoroki-kun through the library window chatting cutely about something, he can't help but feel that suffocating feeling. He thinks right. That's the way it should be. You certainly need your peer, strong like you. Someone who can give you all the wonders of first love and relationships that Aizawa couldn't. He thinks like this when he walks down the corridor, he thinks like that when he opens the door to the library and he thinks like that when he calls you by name and asks you to go with him because there is something to be solved. He thinks so, he knows that this is right, but in his office, closing the door to the lock and turning to face you, he officially admits his defeat.

Your eyes are bottomless sea distances, in which there is no bottom. Therefore, everyone who falls into them perishes forever, having no chance of salvation. So Shoto died. He asks to give him a chance to show himself. He does not promise stars from heaven, but he promises to treat you as one of them and carry you in his arms.

If you agree, he will be very surprised, he probably thought that you would refuse. But believe me, he will be very happy. He will take care of you like a princess, protect and cherish, call you a kitten, give you forehead kisses and sometimes "adult kisses". Shota will not touch you until your graduation and you will definitely have to wait until it happens, but believe such a man is worth waiting for for all eternity💜

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello Nausicaa, hope you are doing well! Can we get 90s Lars x pro tennis player reader please? He used to play tennis when he was a kid, so he still follows all major events, and she’s so beautiful and fierce on court he gets obsessed with her? So after reader wins a major tournament, Lars asks to be introduced to her? At first she doesn’t care despite all his charm (girl, I swear, 90s Lars could talk anyone into anything) but in a few weeks she agrees on a date - she’s just tired of all the flowers and gifts he was sending. But surprisingly they hit it off?

Also, can the reader be taller than him? Looking at Connie and Jessica - it’s safe to say he likes tall women. Thank you)))

Thank you, I wish you're having a good day. I hope you like it because I'm feeling very tired today❤

Beyond the game

Tennis has always been my life. I’d dedicated everything to it—sacrificed relationships, time, and even parts of my sanity for the game. But winning a major tournament? That was supposed to be the culmination of it all. The moment where everything I’d worked for paid off.

And yet, after the tournament, all I could think about was Lars Ulrich.

It wasn’t like I’d never heard of him. I’d seen the name, heard the rumors, but I hadn’t given it much thought. He was the drummer from Metallica, a rock god, not the kind of guy I typically paid attention to.

But when he showed up at my post-match celebration, I couldn’t help but notice. He was everywhere: charming, magnetic, with that intense smile of his that probably got him whatever he wanted. He approached me with all the confidence of someone who was used to having doors opened for him.

“Hi, I’m Lars,” he said with a grin, offering a hand like we were two ordinary people meeting for the first time.

I didn’t shake it. Instead, I raised an eyebrow. “You’re Lars Ulrich, right?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent, like it didn’t matter.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he replied easily. “But I’m not just a fan. I wanted to say congratulations on the win. It was impressive.”

I nodded briefly, not really interested in the flattery. I had more important things to do than entertain some celebrity. “Thanks,” I said, turning to walk away, my coach calling me over.

Lars didn’t take the hint. Over the next couple of weeks, I found myself receiving gifts—flowers, expensive chocolates, a hand-written note almost every day. At first, I thought it was funny. But after a while, it became annoying. I didn’t need a rock star to send me things to get my attention.

But Lars didn’t stop. Every day, another gesture. He didn’t just send the usual flowers and gifts; he sent things that felt more personal, like he was trying to get to know me. He’d comment on my matches, send messages telling me how he was watching, how he admired my style of play. It was flattering, but also... exhausting.

Finally, one day, I snapped. I was tired of the flowers, tired of the constant attention, tired of it all. So, I sent him a short message: Dinner. Tomorrow night. 7 PM. My treat.

I wasn’t expecting much. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I agreed to it. Maybe I just wanted it to end. If he had a chance to prove himself in person, maybe he’d back off. I couldn’t keep ignoring him forever, right?

When I showed up at the restaurant, I was prepared for another round of charm and persistence. But what I found wasn’t what I expected. Lars was relaxed, easygoing, almost... normal. He wasn’t throwing compliments at me every five seconds, and he didn’t seem to be in any rush. It was a simple dinner, just two people sitting across from each other.

“So, tennis, huh?” he asked, his voice casual, his gaze warm as he watched me. “How do you do it? Make it look so effortless?”

I smirked, pushing my plate aside. “It’s not effortless. It’s hard work. It’s blood, sweat, and tears.”

“Yeah, but there’s something different about you,” he said, leaning forward just a little, eyes never leaving mine. “The way you play... It’s like you’re one with the game.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Most people didn’t bother trying to understand what it meant to be in the game. But Lars was different. He wasn’t just admiring the surface. He was looking deeper.

“Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice,” I said, trying to brush it off. “The game is everything.”

He chuckled, the sound light but with an edge of sincerity. “Yeah, but that’s why you’re so good at it. You’ve got something most people don’t. And I can’t help but admire that.”

I paused, looking at him for a moment. “Alright, you’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

Lars smiled, that damn grin of his I’d seen in every magazine. But this time, it didn’t feel like he was trying to win me over with it. It felt... natural. Like he was just being himself.

We talked about other things, too. Not just tennis. We talked about music, about travel, about the weird quirks of our jobs. It wasn’t about impressing each other; it was just two people finding something in common. And, to my surprise, I found myself enjoying it.

By the end of the evening, I realized something I hadn’t expected: I was actually looking forward to seeing him again. There was something refreshing about him, something I couldn’t quite put into words. And despite all the gifts, all the persistence, he hadn’t made me feel like an object of desire. He’d made me feel... seen.

As we walked outside together, I felt his gaze on me. He leaned in for a quick kiss on my cheek, and for a moment, I didn’t pull away.

“I’ll be around,” he said, with a grin that I couldn’t ignore. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I shook my head, but part of me was already wondering what that meant. “You’ll regret that.”

“Not in a million years,” he replied, his voice soft but certain.

I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t the persistent rock star I thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Lars Ulrich than I had first assumed.

And maybe... just maybe... I was starting to see it.

[angelofverdum]

Desperate Housewives

I wish I would have written about each season while watching. I have so many feelings.

I have so much to say about this show. I just love it when a show has a perfect mix of drama and comedy. The kind of show that made me cry and laugh so much that I had to pause the episode.

They don't make shows like this one, where they introduce a story in one episode and wrap it up in the next one, and it's not relevant again. That is television. 6 to 8 episodes are the worst thing that ever happened.

I have a tiny complaint and it's that they should have spent more time together as friends. They did poker night but besides that they don't discuss personal stuff. That's why one of my favorite scenes is when Gaby and Bree are having an "affair", because they want to hangout just because.

The wives

Bree Van De Kamp.

In my eyes Bree can’t do wrong, I’m sorry. On paper why would you like someone like Bree? She is a Republican, she has guns, and she was judgmental. I’ll give credit to Marcia Cross for making Bree this beautiful amazing character.

Bree was the best-written character. I think it was the only character who didn’t regress, she actually had a character development through the seasons and learned from her mistake.

She was homophobic when she learned that her son was gay, but she got over it, her relationship with Andrew was one of the most beautiful things on the show.

She was so perfect that every man she met asked her to marry him. If I were Rex and my wife was Bree I wouldn’t have cheated or died.

Imagine coming home, and you have a wife that looks like that, cooks, cleans, and I get that Rex's problem was that Bree was too uptight but when you watch the flashback where she tries to open up about him flirting with Gaby and he dismisses her, you understand why she never opens up to him completely. She couldn’t match his freak.

And It makes me so happy that in the end, she found someone and she can be her authentic self. 

And that badass name? I was mad when Rex died and she married Orson and she became Bree Hodge. The writer fumbled that one really bad. I’m glad she realized that when she wrote the book. 

Also, she had an incredible queer vibe. She has the best lines and those episodes where she was absent because Marcia Cross was pregnant were like a personal attack. I missed her so much.

Gabrielle Solis.

When I was a kid and I watched random episodes Gaby was my favorite. She was young, pretty, had money without working, and a handsome husband, that was a dream to me.

When I started the show I still liked Gaby, even though she was selfish. They knew what they were doing when they cast Eva Longoria as Gaby because her charm definitely helped Gaby’s selfishness. 

My problem with Gaby was that she went back and forth with her selfishness, she did something awful then she realized her mistake and apologized, next episode she did the same thing. 

But she was so funny, she said the most out-of-pocket things that I had no other option but to love her.

Lynette Scavo.

My problem with Lynette was her relationship with Tom. It was awful and boring. But I really liked Lynette, she was smart, sarcastic and funny.

Felicity Huffman is a hell of an actress. Think about the most heart-wrenching scene on the show and it’s probably carried by Felicity. The way she moves, her voice, her eyes. She is a brilliant actress.

There is the hurricane episode or the shooting episode in which you can see her talent but also the scene when Tom tells her he is ready to come back to work at the restaurant and she starts to cry in the bathroom, that scene stayed with me. Like, omg give her another Emmy.

Susan Delfino

S01 Susan was a bit annoying but mostly funny but as the series progressed she became almost unbearable to me. Her attitude was awful and she made everything about her. But at least Teri Hatcher was a capable actress and could handle the comedy and drama perfectly. She made me laugh a lot, I'm not gonna lie, but also made me so mad, the Julie pregnancy storyline.

She deserved that Golden Globe, I guess.

Katherine.

It’s crazy how they ruined Katherine’s character when Mike left her. I love her character so much. Also, she has a lot of chemistry with Bree. They should have explored that a bit. 

Renee.

She entered the show too late. I wanted more of Renne, she was clearly there to replace Edie but it was Vanesa Williams how can you not love her? I don’t understand how she didn’t become immediately friends with Gaby.  

Edie.

I loved Edie the moment she showed up. I love a female character who is full of herself and doesn’t care what other people think about her. However, for me, she was the most inconsistently written character on the show. In season 1 she was a “bitch” but tried to be friends with the girls, they become friends but then they needed a villain so she went maniac, just to come back and tried to be friends again. She was whatever the writers needed at the moment. Her death was totally unfair.

Karen McCluskey. The MVP

The Husbands

They were all awful. All of them were terrible. They had fragile egos, toxic masculinity, totally disregard for their wives’ feelings. 

Carlos.

He had a big macho man problem and didn’t know what he wanted to do in life. Tell me what father will leave a job that has so many benefits to work in a place where the pay is almost nothing? But I like him because when it came to Gaby he didn’t play about her.  He had a character development, and that season when he became blind? Uff A MAN.

Orson.

I’m going to take Orson as Bree's husband because I think it was her longest relationship, that we saw of course. I think they were onto something when they were introducing him as the villain. Then they made him this silly guy who was perfect for Bree, I loved their marriage. Then they ruined his character, he mistreated her, manipulated her, etc. So he became my personal enemy.

His ego was so fragile that he asked his wife to sell her company because she was more successful than him.

Mike.

Boring, just boring. Terrible actor too, Teri was running circles around him. Mike made his family go bankrupt because he couldn’t take his wife’s money.

Tom.

The worst husband to ever exist on television. The worst character on the show. An ungrateful man-child. His wife got cancer and he made the situation about his pain. The worst part is that the show tried to tell us that he is a great husband when we can see he clearly is not. He took all the money they had to open a pizza place, then asked Lynette to quit his job and work with him, then got mad when Lynette was better than him.

Maybe Marc Cherry was in love with Doug Savant because I don’t get it. Even when they fucking finally separated and Lynette said she was relieved, she was the one who had to win him back. He got a new girlfriend while Lynette was scamming a way back into his life.

Ranking the seasons

Season 1

The best mystery in the whole show. So well written, you get enough clues to get you through the season but until the very end you don’t get the whole picture. It was classy and shocking and twisted

Season 3

Not as good as the first one, but it allows you to piece the story together into a bigger mystery. Orson’s mom was a great villain and anything that involved Bree signed me in. Orson’s ex was annoying tho. 

I want to talk about the pedophile’s storyline which I think was one of the darkest plots they did. They resolved this in three episodes, and I think they couldn’t handle it, the final revelation and the character were so eerie and jaw-dropping. I think they never come close to this kind of plot again. It was incredibly upsetting.

Season 5

David was evil and I liked that. I figured it out too fast and I get It wasn’t so mysterious, they revealed too much at the beginning of the season but he was a great villain and a wonderful actor.

Season 6

I liked the Bolen family but the resolution of the mystery was kinda underwhelming. I did like that Lynette was more in the spotlight. I think Angie should have stayed on the show, she was fun.

Season 4

Uninteresting. The mystery didn’t make any sense. How Fake Dylan didn’t remember her time at the orphanage? But it gave me Katherine so I’m not complaining so much. It’s insane to me that Katherine did all of that and kept living like a normal person just to lose her shit when Mike left her in the next season.

Season 8

I have an enormous problem with this season, keep in mind that it’s the highest-rated season of the show on Rotten Tomatoes. The season started so amazing, loved the mystery about the letters and how this time the girls were the ones committing the crime. Which I have expected since the first season.

But then, when all the focus was on Bree it went downhill. And don’t get me wrong I loved that Bree had that much screen time but it didn’t make sense at all.

First Susan’s guilt was crazy to me. She killed a mother and a kid a few seasons ago, and here she just helped to cover the murder of an awful man, but even if we understand her guilt how come when Bree was in trouble, about to get thrown in jail, she never took the initiative to say hey “I did it too”. Same thing with Carlos, he didn’t try very hard Gaby told him "No" and he obeyed.

Besides, the fact that all of them where very shitty friends and I don’t understand why they got so mad at Bree, and not Susan who painted the whole crime scene. The trial in general was so stupid.

Bree wasn’t connected to Alejandro in the first place, she didn’t have a motive. Then their argument was that she slept with him, but Bree started to sleep with those men after Carlos killed him, so she couldn’t pick a random man at a bar because she didn’t even drink and she was with her boyfriend ( don’t remember that asshole's name)

Then, the police knew exactly when he was killed even tho it had been months before they found him, like they knew it was that night specifically AND even if Bree killed him as a random guy in a bar, how come he had her address in a map? it means he knew her. What is the motive for her to kill him? they weren’t even saying she was a serial killer. They were calling her every name but that.

And again if he knew her how come they didn’t call his wife to testify? How they didn’t know his real name. How they didn't connect him to Gaby before?

And Orson had pictures of that night but didn’t send them. Lazy writing.

Season 7.

Paul Young was a great character a ride-or-die husband who lost his mind when he found out why his wife killed herself. But this mystery was so dumb like that was it? mind you, it was such a bad plot that they dropped it and never addressed it again.

Season 2.

Terrible and boring. Borderline racist. Dragged. 

When I finished the show I looked up what was the drama behind the scenes, I knew that Teri Hatcher was awful to the rest of the cast. Imagine my surprise when I found out this has been happening since s01 and that infamous photoshoot, if you know you know.

They had such good chemistry, you could feel they were really close. That’s an impressive thing to me, it was like Alissa Milano and Shannen Doherty hating each other, I was gagged because you don’t see that on screen.

I think it was around s07-08, perhaps 6, when it started to feel like they were trying to keep Susan away from the rest of the cast. Some scenes were almost awkward to watch.

I liked the ending because somehow it makes sense that they moved on with their life. I loved the show so much. It’s full of plotholes, and awful husbands, it was racist, and so conservative, and not even once the option of abortion was brought up, Julie's last storyline was awful.

But at the end of the day, it was a show about female friendship, and they were amazing characters. I’d love to experience this live and I wish I could see them again but at the same time, I don’t. Maybe a reunion like Eva said, but not a reboot.

I'm in that state of sadness that only comes when you finish a good show, and you have to let go but you can't.

[bumblesimagines]

act like you don't know me.

there is no "us." we were never anything.

we could try being friends.

Angel Reyes

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

CW/TW: Gang/cartel mentions, uhhh nothing much else

I haven't seen the show or written for it in so long that I forgot how to write for Angel 😭

"The pay is alright and the boys can be assholes, especially when they get drunk," (Y/N) nodded along as Cielo showed her how to make one of the drinks the Mayans often ordered, keeping her eyes focused and ears open. She'd been job searching for a while and she'd be damned if she were fired over a silly little drink. "Most of them will throw a tantrum if you cut them off so once they start getting really drunk, just water down whatever they order. They won't notice."

"Gotcha." 

"And that's it." Cielo gave her a warm smile and handed off the drink to one of the Mayans standing by the bar before she wiped her hands on her rag. "It might take a while for them to warm up to you, and they'll definitely hit on you or try getting in your pants, but they back off if you don't want them. If not, you can always tell Bishop or Hank or Gilly and they'll take care of it for you. Any questions?"

"Uhm," (Y/N) cleared her throat and gazed over the partially empty clubhouse, her eyes lingering over the door leading into what appeared to be a meeting room of sorts. She was no fool. She knew the Mayans weren't an actual club that bonded over motorcycles and went to motorcycle conventions together. They were a gang, and one with connections to a cartel. "We don't get dragged into things, right?"

"It comes with the territory, mama." Cielo shrugged lightly, crouching down by a box and taking out the clinking bottles within. (Y/N) took a few into her arms and placed them in the fridge to keep them cool, a quiet hum leaving her. "Listen, El Padrino makes sure peace is always kept, alright? The most drama you might get into is getting pregnant or a girlfriend coming in here to fight, so don't get pregnant."

(Y/N) laughed at the exasperated tone in Cielo's voice, laughter turning into giggles as she grumbled about previous bartenders and how they'd slept around with stupid guys in kuttes who never even knew where the clit was. Her smile faltered when the door into the clubhouse opened and some Mayans strolled in, quickly putting on a polite expression and turning around to face the three that approached the bar. She looked at the sunkissed one with pretty light eyes first, giving him a small nod.

"You must be the new girl," He said, sticking out his hand. "Name's Ez." 

"Nice to meet you." She shook his hand, the genuine smile on his face allowing her to relax. "What can I get-" She locked eyes with the man beside him, lips pressing together tightly before she focused back on the pretty boy and cleared her throat. "What can I get you?" 

"..Beer." Ez's brows furrowed but he quietly took the bottle she cracked open and slid toward him, sparing a glance between the two as he walked toward the pool table. The other guy, Coco if she remembered correctly, took a beer as well and drank from it, slipping away to chat with the other two in the clubhouse. 

"Well, well, well," Angel laughed and braced his arms on the table, the pitiful look Cielo gave her as she stepped by to wipe down a nearby table not going over her head. "Never thought I'd see your pretty face around here."

"Stop." She nearly groaned. "Act like you don't know me, Angel. I'm serious."

A mischievous smirk stretched across his lips. "Come on, beautiful. We could try being friends, you know, but you can't say you won't be thinkin' about us." Angel cooed, his cocky charm being the least of her favorite traits. She preferred it when he was funny and genuine, making her laugh until her stomach hurt. 

"There is no "us." We were never anything." (Y/N) asserted with a soft sigh, taking another beer bottle into her hand and opening it. She slid it toward him and pursed her lips when his hand fell over hers, the corners of his eyes crinkling. She rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away, unable to tear her eyes away as he took the bottle and approached Ez. Fuck.

[becomingbuffypodcast]

Who get the biggest passes from Buffyverse fans and can you give examples of the worst things these characters do?

Well this is a juicy question.

Spike, and Cordelia.

Interestingly, at some point, both characters were given the role of calling Buffy out on her "crap." James Marsters even talks about how he was brought in as a replacement for Cordelia in season 4, but then was replaced by Anya when they decided to do something else with him.

With Cordy being the mean girl, and Spike the soulless vampire, the writers had the freedom to use these characters to say and do some incredibly cruel things towards Buffy in the name of "brutal honesty," while also excusing their behavior because they weren't meant to be the hero...at least initially.

This worked a little too well, as Charisma and James were amazing in their roles. Each character is charming, beautiful, multifaceted, and extremely funny.

The problem is, you can't keep your characters stagnate, so the writers were forced to give Cordy and Spike character growth, but also find a way to retain who they are. This is incredibly difficult when your character was literally written to clash with Buffy, and is popular for saying mean, biting things in the name of "tough love."

-Cordelia-

While Queen C is more than the resident mean girl, her cruel words and selfish behavior are praised as "truth" and confidence, with her belittling nearly every member of the Scooby gang. She is constantly pitting herself against Buffy; (Homecoming, Halloween, etc) demeaning and belittling her when Buffy has personally saved her life several times. She begins to show signs of character growth in season 3, but once Xander cheats on her, reverts right back to blaming Buffy for everything. Instead of holding Xander accountable for his actions, she makes a wish that Buffy never came to Sunnydale, and then never sees the consequences for her own actions.

Even after her move to LA, she calls Buffy a cry-Buffy, blames her for turning Angel into Angelus, emasculates Wesley, victim blames and shames a SA survivor (Untouched), and is generally just careless about what she says or does, with no thought about how her words effect others.

Personally, while I do see some growth over her time on Angel, I do not buy her characterization in the later seasons where she is drastically changed to become a Champion, and then shoe-horned into a relationship with Angel. On top of that, she never atones for or even recognizes her need to change for her awful behavior, and that makes it very hard for me to forgive her for her past sins, let alone root for her.

It's possible that with better writing and without Joss being a horrible person, that her transition would have been more organic and believable.

-Spike-

For a show about feminism, the writers really spend a lot of time on this man. He steals Buffy's underwear, stalks her, makes a sex robot that looks just like her, attempts to kill her multiple times, boasts about killing and torturing other slayers, justifies it by saying they wanted it, ties her up, then spends a season belittling her just so that she'll sleep with him. THEN when she refuses sex with him, attempts to force himself on her.

And for those of you who say, "oh he just didn't have a soul yet." Fine.

After he had a soul, he boasts about assaulting her, shames her for using him for sex when he knew she didn't love him, shames her for not loving him, and blames her for the reason he's tortured with having a soul. (Beneath You)

He nearly kills Robin Wood, and then mocks him for not being loved by his mother (which is proven to be false in "Damage"), all while wearing the coat that he stole from Robin's mother after he killed her.

Not once does he apologize to Buffy or attempt to hold himself accountable, even after he has a soul. It is not until "Damage" on Angel that we see any sort of unselfish remorse.

Then to add insult to injury, season 7 has Buffy spending so much time taking care of Spike, rescuing Spike, training with Spike, reassuring Spike that he is a good man...all to the detriment of her other relationships. People like to blame the Potentials for why season 7 is as clunky as it is, but I blame the focus on Spike.

Even worse, the show doesn't seem to want Spike to change, as there's hardly a difference between pre souled and ensouled Spike. And that goes against the show's core tenant of choice and growth.

From the very beginning, vampires represent the opposite of adolescence in that they are stagnate and do not change. "Fool for Love" very clearly establishes that Spike's persona is created to compensate for his lack of an identity. Cecily's rejection of him deeply wounds him and he is shown to create a facade to mask his insecurities. So he takes from powerful women and forms a false identity around them to prove that he is not beneath them. The episode emphasizes this pattern with Cecily, Dru, and the two Slayers, continuing in present day with Buffy.

In order to be consistent with the lore and message of the show, ensouled Spike needed to look a lot different from un-ensouled Spike, but the writers knew he wouldn't be as popular.

And so we're left with a half baked season where we're supposed to believe that Buffy is distant from everyone but Spike, who looks the exact same as he did the season before when he tried to force himself on her.

It's just icky. It's the opposite of empowering. It blurs the lines of the lore. And it sends the wrong message.

We can like these characters and even root for them, but we need to be honest about their flaws, and not justify awful writing and problematic characterization.

[elsfairy]

OMG OMG PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOUUUU. Could you do one were sevika is deeply in love with the reader and the reader loves her back BUT LIKE SEVIKA IS LIKE LOW-KEY RUDE TO HIDE HER FEELINGS and the reader is getting the wrong impression so Jinx tells sevika how the reader actually feels about her but sevika scares them to much AND THEN LIKE HOW SEVIKA WOULD APPROACH READER AND POUR HER HEART OUT .

I WOULD DIEEEEEEEEE FOR THIS WOMAN! I JUST WANNA SQUISH HER FACE BETWEEN MY HANDSSS AND KISS HER ALL OVER MY GOODNESS!

───── ENDEARMENT.

Just a warning, I have never written a full somewhat fic in my life... so if this sucks I'm sorry, it's 3am, idk what im doing and I'm all over the place... I do hope you enjoy it tho<3

w/c: 1.7k

Sevika didn't get crushes. That was something she barely even had time to think about. Of course that went straight out the window when you walked into the picture. With your bright smile, giddy charms, and beautiful fuckin face.

Sevika didn't get crushes.

She told herself that for months.

Over that time, she got to know you. How you prefer to wear something baggy and comfortable than something tight and suffocating. She learned that you are a great dancer when you're fuckin drunk out your mind. How you loved to pick flowers and give them to random people in the street. How selfless you were and loved to make people happy. How free you felt when you spoke about things you loved.

Sevika did not get crushes.

But no, the minute you giggled at something she didn't even think was remotely funny, you had her hooked. You had your claws dug deep right into her heart, and she didn't know what to do. She's never loved anyone before, how the fuck does she love someone? how does someone act so happy around her knowing what she does? who she is?

Sevika would be ruthless, she would push you away in any way possible just to protect her heart. Would slide snarky replies into conversation towards you. Would even go to the lengths of ignoring whatever it was that you told her, simply because she was fuckin scared to love someone. She never meant her words, but sometimes her mouth runs course by itself, and half the time it ends with a "Can you leave me the fuck alone?" never intentionally trying to hurt you, but she has never let anyone have her heart. How could she let someone so precious for this world have it?

She's never seen someone look so defeated, heartbroken, and overall done with life until she noticed those tears running down your pretty face. You've been nothing but kind and sweet to her, so why would she make you cry? why was she being mean to you when you've done nothing wrong? You didn't know, fuck, even she didn't really know why, all she knew was she thought she was protecting her heart. And somehow it ran away with you when you quickly stormed out of the Last Drop.

The thing was, she was in love with you. She loved the way you didn't care about anyone's opinion, but you cared deeply about hers. Just hers. She adored it when you would light up, a bright smile on your face at the mention of something you liked doing. She studied you, constantly. She loved when you would cover your face, hiding the blush coating your cheeks behind your locks at how she looked at you. Loved your smile. She thought you were so beautiful, yet she was the one who made you cry. She didn't like that.

You were intimidated by her, to say the least. She always had that cold, blank emotionless look in her eyes that pretty much said "Don't speak to me, or breath near me" but that just made you try harder. You loved that she could shut someone down with just a sigh. Loved that she could scare someone just for looking at her the wrong way. Loved how she didn't take shit from anyone. You were so in awe of her and then knowing she didn't even want to know you? That breaks your heart more than anything.

Jinx, as much as she could not stand Sevika with the fuckin life of her could tell just how much the situation upset you more than angered you. She wasn't stupid, god she was never stupid. You stayed in your room longer than necessary. Barely smiling when she saw you. You didn't even have the efforts to make yourself look presentable.

She upset you a week ago.

A week you have not stepped foot outside your apartment.

That blue-haired girl could always catch the Brute at random, awkward times, so it was no surprise she almost shoved the woman down the fuckin stairs, having some decency to not actually let her fall.

"God fucking damn it. Watch it, you little devil"

"Listen to me you Ogre. Do you understand how badly you have fucked up? I know you have a hard time seeing things because you're so old, but do you see what you've done?"

"Did you snort shimmer, or am I missing your point in this question?"

"Do you not see how much you upset them?"

As much as Jinx despised her, she wanted to fix this for the both of you. She could tell how much you adored Sevika just by how you watched her, how you watched the way she tucks the loose strands of hair behind her ear. How you eyed up the way her mechanical hand rested under her cloak, tucked away from everyone else, but you saw. And it just made you want to touch it. Brush your fingers lightly over the metal, to feel the low hum of the piece of art. Treasure it like she did.

Part of Sevika wanted to run back out of the office the second Jinx closed the door. Slightly worried she was going to either try fuckin ripping her arm off because of what she had said to you or scream, but the other part of her, wanted to listen. She needed to listen.. or just hear how you were. Jinx was also never one to sugarcoat shit. "You're both disgustingly in love with each other, I'm sick"

Of course, the Brute is going to deny it the minute those words are in the air. Denying she has any feelings towards you. Because it's what she does. She can't handle her own emotions most of the time. No matter how fuckin hard she tries, just hearing how much you adore her, how much she makes you feel safe, and how fucking cool she is, she can't help but finally let that frustrated sigh out. She hated how upset she made you. How she made you cry. Oh, the crying.. she hated herself.

"I know you are like so scary or whatever, but please fix it. God fix it, or ill hurt you"

Rain. You never minded it, sometimes it just made you feel content with the world around you. You loved tracing the condensation that accumulated on the window, drawing random patterns and sometimes hearts. This time? Sevika's name. You felt like a lost puppy who just lost it'sfuckin owner, and you were pondering the meaning of life. You missed her. You missed the cigarette-mixed alcohol musk she always had clinging to her clothes. The way she would deviously smirk at whoever lost against⎯

"Can you open the damn door? It's fucking freezing out here!"

Poor you almost fell into the bookshelf at the sudden voice. You've not heard her voice in a week, somehow you slowly forgot what she sounded like, and the fact she was here? right outside your apartment door? that made you panic. Worried she was here to yell at you again. Scared. Hopeless.

"What do you want..?"

"To talk to you, please open the door"

In all honesty, both of you were exhausted. You both felt like nothing was going to be okay until you talked this out. Deep down, even if she was afraid to admit it, Sevika needed you. She needed you more than anything in life, and she wouldn't be able to bear it if you hated her.

Fresh tear-stained, red cheeks were what Sevika was met with when you finally gained the courage to open the door, hair messy and more than likely tangled. She looked like she hasn't slept in months, even though it's been a week. Before she looked so full of life, glowing even, and right now she looked like she would rather be drinking constantly than be happy.

"What did you want to talk about?" Your voice was barely there, and that made her tense. She didn't like she was the reason you looked and sounded so defeated. If only she could have just accepted her feelings for you from the start, then you both wouldn't be here like this right now.

"I just⎯ don't actually know how to word this, never really had to apologize before⎯ but I don't want to be like that with you... I want to be honest with you. I don't want to be scared to admit things to you. To admit that sometimes I can be an asshole, even when I don't mean to be.. I can be cruel.. I can be heartless but with you it's different. You don't treat me like that.. you treat me like a person and sometimes it freaks me the fuck out because you're the first person to⎯ to see me, all of me.. and it fucking scares me how comfortable and safe i feel with you. That night, i never meant to hurt you or upset you, i was just scared.. you scare me⎯ wait, that's not how i meant to word that, you scare me because i actually trust myself around you by being myself, i trust you and that scares me. Im scared because i love you, and i have no idea what I'm doing"

Human contact with anyone always made her freeze, so it wasn't surprising she tensed up the minute you wrapped your arms around her body tightly when you spotted her own tears running down her face and she was shaking like a leaf, she was not used to this kind of affection. But she did relax, when you rested your head against her chest, holding onto her like she was about to disappear, inhaling that cigarette alcohol mix left on her shirt.

"Don't have to be scared around me, I won't ever hurt you Vika. Love you too much to ever think about hurting you. Just wanna make you happy, never upset or hurt"

If she could, she would gladly stand in the middle of your home, holding onto you until her last breath. She loved the way your smaller body fit between her arms, and she already decided in this moment she never wanted to let you go. "I'm sorry i hurt you, Sweetheart"

"You're here now. That's all that matters to me, Vika"

[lesbianpunkghost]

Ashley Campbell moodboard + some of my headcanons

Okay guys, I've been in the Sally Face fandom for a long time (4 years) and I have an AU based on the game (I have it written but I've never posted it anywhere) so some of the headcanons might seem weird in the game's canon.

- Ash definitely listens to Billie Eilish and other famous singers. But she also listens to a lot of Indie rock, alternative rock (e.g. Big Thief, Sparklehorses, Radiohead, etc.).

- Continuing with the music world, she certainly has several different playlists for very specific situations. And she organizes them all frequently.

- (I think this one is kind of canon) she is a protective friend and probably stops thinking about herself to help her friends, which ends up making her destroy herself.

- She is lesbian and non-binary, her pronouns are she/they

- She loves more "neutral" clothes, like suits, leather jackets, loose sweaters, because it makes her feel more androgynous and she loves it

- She and Larry have obviously been best friends for a long time and know everything about each other, but she is also VERY close friends with Todd and they definitely gossip a lot.

- She and Sal were always very close but they still didn't know much about each other. One day they discovered that they were fans of the same series and began to have the courage to open up to each other, discovering that they are practically identical (in relation to many things).

- She has had a secret (not so secret) crush on Maple since elementary school, contrary to what many people think, they have always been friends (they even drifted apart at the beginning of high school) but then they got closer and had a quick "casual" relationship, because Ash was going to move to college.

- She and Maple stayed out of touch while Ash was in college (against Ash's will), so she didn't know that Maple had started a relationship with Chug and received the news as soon as she returned to Nockfell.

- She drew Maple at every possible opportunity and in every possible drawing stroke.

- Ash never got over Maple and when they were finally able to be together again she felt so happy that anyone could tell.

- Ash DEFINITELY sang Good Luck Babe to Maple while she was still married.

- Ash and Larry have a habit of leaving the group for a while and going out just the two of them to smoke and talk about life.

- She definitely has mommy issues and her mother was responsible for Ash not getting into an art/photography course.

- She has a problem with self-harm but whenever Sal says he relapsed she starts with the speech that it's not good and that he should stop.

- She hates math.

- She listened to "Do I wanna know?" thinking about Maple.

- She's the friend who has a camera, so every time she goes out with her friends she takes a bunch of pictures and gets a bunch of messages from them saying "send me the pictures from yesterday please"

- She uses kitty emojis

- She loves Instagram or any other social network where you can post photos and her feed is always methodical and organized.

- She has another Instagram, but this one is private and she uses it as a photo album (this one is not as organized) and she always posts everything about her/her life there.

- She and Sal are the "old-fashioned" friends and they make the whole group wear friendship charms, post texts on social media, take funny photos and record videos (and everyone gets on board with them).

- She writes letters (and then turns the letters into text) to all her friends all the time and always posts cute posts about them on Instagram.

- She is an alcoholic who only drinks wine.

- She's a smoker too btw.

- She and Maple have a Pinterest board where they share how they see each other with beautiful pictures.

- She is borderline and the symptom she suffers most from is dissociation and the constant desire to change.

- She is an outgoing person and talks a lot all the time.

- She loves to read and has a giant bookshelf full of books

- Even though she was the one who helped/taught Larry most of the things about art, she is insecure about her drawing style and took a while to show them to her friends often.

- She was a terrible cook as a teenager and now everyone is afraid to try what she makes, even though she has learned to cook properly.

- Her natural hair is wavy and she straightened it during her teenage years.

- She has a problem with anger and suffers a lot because of it because she sometimes pushes her friends away impulsively. And she feels that deep down everyone hates her because of it.

- She has a YouTube channel that she uses as a blog.

- She sees art in everything and is always painting and taking pictures of something.

(Just these for now because I'm sleepy)

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Judy Holliday (Born Yesterday, Bells Are Ringing)—Judy Holliday was the whole package--actress, singer, dancer, and comedienne--she lights up the screen in such a powerful way that she outshines everyone else. Here she is in a supporting role in Adam's Rib (1949) giving her statement to lawyer (Katharine Hepburn) on why she shot her cheating husband [editor's note: tw for domestic abuse & murder mentions] In every movie I've seen her in my heart goes out to her, she's so authentic and beautiful. She's proof that it takes smart to play dumb, and can make me laugh and cry in the same scene let alone the same movie. Film historian Bernard Dick on Holliday: "Perhaps the most important aspect of the Judy Holliday persona, both in variations of Billie Dawn and in her roles as housewife, is her vulnerability... her ability to shift her mood quickly from comic to serious is one of her greatest technical gifts." She won the Oscar for Best Actress (beating out Gloria Swanson, Bette Davis, and Anne Baxter) for her performance in Born Yesterday.

Carmen Sevilla (La fierecilla domada/La mégère apprivoisée, La Venganza, King of Kings)— One of the few spanish actresses to really make it in Hollywood. She worked opposite Charlton Heston in the 1970s and reportedly slapped him but that is past the cut-off so you can look it up for yourselves. There's also rumors that Frank Sinatra had a bit of a crush on her and asked her out a couple of times but she rejected him. The woman was just messy as hell in general and an absolute icon. Bless.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Judy Holliday:

Mostly remembered for beating screen legends Gloria Swanson and Bette Davis at the Oscars for her performance as ditzy blonde Billie Dawn in Born Yesterday, Judy Holliday was an incredible actress whose charm, vulnerability, and humour impressed Katharine Hepburn so much that Hepburn helped her secure the role of Billie Dawn in the screen adaptation of Born Yesterday by getting her a role in 'Adam's Rib', starring Hepburn and Tracy, when Judy was deemed 'too unknown'. Holliday was also an incredibly smart Jewish leftist, who played the ditzy blonde part again when pulled up by HUAC for 'communist sympathies'. She never named names and managed to avoid getting blacklisted. What a queen. She also had an incredible and unique voice and one of the best smiles in the business.

HOT. FUNNY. JEWISH. BLONDE. WOMAN.

She was a singer, dancer, comedienne, and Oscar-winning actress (for Born Yesterday), and she had a gorgeous curvy Cinderella vibe that is everything to me. The part of Lina Lamont in Singin' in the Rain was written for her, but after she won her Academy Award the producers realized she was far too big a star for a supporting role, so her friend Jean Hagen did a perfect impression of how Judy would play it, and she got the part!

SOMEONE PLEASE TALK ABOUT BELLS ARE RINGING??? HELLO??? THE FUNNIEST COMEDIENNE MY GOD SMART AND FUNNY AND HOT AS HELL?

this woman had an IQ of 172!! she was a jewish new yorker!! investigated for communist sympathies and named no names!! tony and oscar winning actress!! leonard bernstein thought of marrying her???? which part of this is not fabulous i ask you that right now

[councilman-horsemeat]

The Greatest Star Trek Characters, Ranked

I was recently reading a few articles ranking the various Star Trek characters and got really infuriated. I started punching my solid wood table until my fists were blooded and filled with splinter. Kirk, Spock, Picard- who gives a shit? There was no flavor, no spice to these lists. After taking a long walk and eating some meal, I decided I oughta make my own. Here it goes; In no particular order, so they're not actually ranked at all.

Sylvia Tilly Star Trek: Discovery is full of people whose lives have sucked, in a way which reflects their outlook on life. Some are hardened, some burdened, some both. Sylvia Tilly offers a delightful contrast to these characters. I’m not through the first season of Discovery yet, but I hope she and Michael Burnham become best friends forever.

Mobar (Fake Tuvok) Part of a criminal group that travels the Delta quadrant scamming various strangers through various schemes. Mobar and his friend Dala ended up acting as Tuvok and Janeway, fooling hapless aliens into joining the “Federation”, which meant little more than handing over their starships or cargo. Mobar ended up getting WAY into character, oftentimes chastising his fellow criminals for not adhering to Starfleet protocols. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to make him not a criminal, and in the end he went down like a chump. RIP to a legend. I don’t think he died but whatever.

Dax (Jadzia, Ezri and Curzon/Odo) Jadzia Dax, our first true look into what trill really are. The fusion of Jadzia and Dax created a woman with wisdom far beyond her years, enough to make her approach life in a very confident, laid-back way. This, along with her highly analytical mind and charm, would have made her a perfect ship’s captain. Gone too soon.

On the other hand, I really liked Ezri Dax too. I’m conflicted, because seeing what it’s like for an unprepared, naive trill to be joined (despite never training to) was really interesting, and I even wish we got more than just the one season with her- but I also wish Jadzia could have been around for the finale.

When they were temporarily joined in a trill ritual, Curzon brought a certain down-in-the-dirt, slob attitude to the usually uptight Odo. I really liked him. He could have been less of a pervert.

Bearded Geordi LaForge Beautiful. Majestic. Just a touch of rogueish charm. Too bad he only had it for two episodes and like some movies or whatever.

Mirror Sarek I understand WHY he has a goatee. They needed to make him visually distinct from normal Sarek and it’s an homage to mirror Spock from way back when. The problem is that the homage only works if you didn’t already think mirror Spock’s goatee is funny as hell. They also call him the prophet for some reason. All in all a weird guy, which means I like him.

Neelix He brought a genuine heart of gold to the crew of the voyager when they needed it the most. A rock, a true friend and a shoulder to lean on. His friendship with Tuvok allowed him to occasionally bring out a different side of the indomitable vulcan. I also liked that his eye color randomly changed with no in-show explanation.

T’pring Spock’s almost-wife T’pring probably has the quickest turnaround from “WTF why is she so needlessly brutal” to “she’s a genius and she’s so logical” of any Star Trek character. She will always have my respect.

Sela It’s just really funny to me that she had all that buildup on top of already being the return of a written-off main character’s actor. And then like, nothing happened.

Kai Winn Opaka There’s something so incredibly about Louise Fletcher’s performance as Kai Winn in the later seasons that I sometimes have a hard time putting into words. She just captures the self-righteous, holier-than-thou, but also absolutely desparate character in such a captivating way- while also maintaining this underlying confidence and power.

“Klingon Chef” Deep Space Nine’s resident Klingon chef/opera singer showed a side of Klingon culture we don’t often see - the civilian side. He truly made the most of his few appearances, and I will always love him for it.

Seven of Nine (Possessed) Maybe it’s because of Seven’s usually stoic, reserved demeanour, but seeing Jeri Ryan take on the exaggerated personalities of a Klingon warrior, a Ferengi DaiMon, and the EMH of the USS Voyager amongst others, was one hell of a lot of fun. Enough fun to end up on this list! Unfortunately, not enough for that Oscar nom. Next time!

Dr. Michael Dingo Dingo’s brief stint as nurse aboard the Enterprise-D established him as little more than a grumpy old man, but he really shone after his promotion to main cast member and CMO of the USS Pioneer. His usual snarky personality being torn down upon meeting his long-believed-to-be-dead wife went down as one of my favorite moments in all of Star Trek. His refusal to poison the crew on behalf of his madly sick captain gave me goosebumps.

Lwaxana Troi She started out as no more than “Deanna Troi’s Annoying Mom” but evolved into so much more across her many appearances. Absolutely wonderfully played by Majel Barrett, the writers explore many facets of sorrow, motherhood, and what it means to grow old. I also believe that she should have ended up with Odo instead of Nerys, but whatev.

Falow The leader of the Wadi, a gamma quadrant species that value various types of games above all else. He and his entourage visit Deep Space Nine and end up throwing the main cast INTO a highly-advanced video game where they think they’ll actually die, but it’s actually just a game. What I like most is that he truly looks like the Most Advanced Gamer. If I was a highly advanced space-gamer this is what I would want to look like.

Riker Picard’s number one actually features on a lot of these lists. They usually list his loyalty or how cool he is or whatever. I’m mostly interested in his absolutely off-the-charts adventurous spirit. He was the first starfleet officer to serve aboard a klingon ship and was GLAD to eat gagh. When he learned that a trill symbiont needed a new host he practically jumped at the chance, despite the fact that no human had ever hosted a trill symbiont before. And he had absolutely no shame in wearing his slutty outfit in ‘Angel One’. There’s many similarities between Riker and Kirk, but Kirk would never have worn it so proudly.

Horny/drunk-ish Picard Patrick Stewart’s performance as a pseudo-drunk and very horny Jean-Luc Picard in The Naked Now has seared itself into my mind forever. It’s like he’s screaming, but also whispering, and sort of putting on an accent? Deciding just how to portray the usually stoic captain so completely out of his element must have been quite the challenge, and Patrick Stewart ended up making some very inspired choices.

Alyssa Ogawa She may not have done much more than help out in medbay every now and then, but the conversations between her and Crusher were the first to show that the main crew actually DO have friends outside the “inner circle”. Does that truly earn her a spot on a list of the greatest Star Trek characters of all time? Probably not but I don’t really care and neither should you.

Grand Nagus Zek Every time he got more screentime I remembered how much I loved his dumbass voice. His shrill bleating is hilarious, and every time he shows up I can’t wait to find out what his latest scheme is. His behavior towards women is regrettable, but that’s true for a lot of Star Trek men and unlike most of them, Zek actually sort-of changes.

Ishka And who is Zek without Rom and Quark’s moogie Ishka? Despite the usual underestimatable Ferengi personality traits, I genuinely believe Ishka could have one of the highest power levels in all of Star Trek canon. Women not even having the right to wear clothes has been a part of Ferengi culture for centuries and she managed to turn it around COMPLETELY in a handful of years. If she put her mind to it, I genuinely believe she could have brokered peace between the Cardassians and Bajorans, and that’s on the prophets.

Jae Yeah, I got a bit of a crush on this frankly random Enterprise-D crewmember. I think she’s friends with Picard? She sat next to him at a poetry reading once. I’m not sure if she even had any speaking lines.