#side note- it is ungodly sexy to watch someone watch me

[depravedangelbaby]

I was snapping my old tumblr pal yesterday n it made me so happy 🥰 we met in late 2015 n it's wild to me that we still chat sometimes!! ugh, I love you dave ♡♡

[v3nusxsky]

hello, this is my first time asking here so im kinda shy... maybe can u do a emily prentiss x fem!reader where emily for some reason finds a cowboy hat and put it on to show reader and that turns reader on, then reader needs emily to deal with her... maybe smut if you into it ? thanks, also im following you for a little time and im loving your stories, bye angel

Reverse Cowgirl 18+

*Authors note~ I was unsure on which direction I wanted to take this due to writers block but I low key love it and the last word of the ask seemed to incorporate itself well here, I hope you love it*

Trigger Warnings~ roleplay?? dom em sub r daddy Emily cowboy hat reverse cowgirl position strap oral praise kink degrading kink

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

It was so rare that you ever had time to spare from chasing serial killers all around the world, but thankfully today seemed to be a rare restful day. No phone buzzing at ungodly hours of the morning with the words "we got a case." No this morning you'd awoken to your favourite agent peacefully sleeping next to you. Your girlfriend, not that anyone else knew. These mornings were definitely your favourite. You often wonder how she gets away with looking so damn gorgeous but then again your too busy starring to care why, instead admiring her beauty.

A lazy morning with your love sounded absolutely perfect until your phone began buzzing on the nightstand. A silent pray for it to not be work, you answered the call to be greeted with an excited shriek form the one and only miss Penelope Garcia. "Pg!" You whined, "my ears Garcia, what do you need?" A little scoff made its way over the line, "you me JJ and Prentiss, shopping at noon. No excuses we need a girl day and I need to spoil my god sons. I'll text you the address, bye sweets!" And just like that she was gone. It wasn't a few seconds later, and your girlfriends phone buzzed too. Trying to contain your laughter as she attempted to wriggle out of the girls day, and her side glance at you while mouthing "traitor" before giving in and accepting that she needed to get up. After the phone call ended you promised if Emily got out of bed you could shower together, apparently that was all the motivation she needed.

After a shower that took twice as long as it normally would've due to Emily's wandering hands you finally secured breakfast and both left to meet the girls. Emily drove you both and honestly you'd be lying if you said her driving with a hand on your thigh didn't drive you insane, soon enough you were separating ways after a final kiss to avoid the suspicion. A part of you wished you could hold her hand in public or kiss her cheek but another part was too scared they'd try and reassign you to keep you both apart. You'd like to think Hotch wouldn't do that but you knew it was out of his control. Plus they didn't even know you were bisexual with a preference for women.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have fun watching Garcia absolutely raid the toy stores and clothing shops while JJ insisted they didn't need anything since the absolute flood of gifts on six months ago. Garcia always won those arguments, finding some kind of loophole somewhere which made you giggle, Emily grabbed everything a coffee in order to slip a little I love you on your cup and every chance she got she discreetly joined your hands under tables. Small things like that made your heart yearn for her.

Now to end up in a sexy shop wasn't on your to do list but with JJ and Wills anniversary coming up it wasn't surprising she wanted to get him something or someone to unwrap. Garcia wondering off to another toy store left you and Emily waiting for JJ. Both of you pretending to look around separately while mentally compiling a list of outfits to get,

Emily even going as far to look at some of the strap ons. Seeing a cow boy hat in a sex shop was certainly something unexpected yet you still couldn't resist putting it on.

"Fetch me my horse daddy" you giggled adding a southern drawl into your accent causing Emily to spin around in confusion. There you stood with a cow boy hat on your head, going surprisingly well with your braided hair, and a riding crop in your right hand, "I believe I found my ride" you whispered before cheekily winking at the stunned woman. While you were putting it back where up I found the accessories you completely missed the raven haired woman buying a certain something and slipping away to hide it.

By the time JJ returned with her gift Emily was back looking at objects in the room as if she'd never left. The imagine of you being her perfect cowgirl never leaving her mind, all the ways she could fuck you in that outfit. On all fours her hand gripping and tugging on your braids as she absolutely rails you from behind. Oh and you'd be so good for her, you always were. Her sweet little cow girl. Unbeknownst to you a silly little dress up would result into an absolutely desperate Emily tonight.

The journey back to Emily's apartment was blissfully normal until you arrived. There she went to the boot of the car and grabbed a cow boy hat. The hat suited her so well and you found yourself to distract to try and find out where she got it from due to the sticky wetness now dripping down your thick thighs. "God daddy so big! I need you" you whined pitifully as she came to hug you from behind, purposefully rubbing her bulge into your ass. That was new. She definitely wasn't packing when you left this morning that was for sure. God she knew how to drive you absolutely wild.

Emily allowed you to practically drag her into the apartment and straight to the bedroom, secretly loving how desperate a simple had made you, before pushing you into the wall and claiming your lips with hers. It was lustful and needy as if neither of you needed oxygen to breathe. Emily's right hand crept up your body until it made its way to its rightful place, your throat. Now with the gentle squeeze of her hand you were begging her to take you already. The nerd becoming unbearable for you. And Emily wasn't handling the need any better than you.

Clothing was torn from eachothers body before Emily gently lifted you so you could wrap your legs around her waist all while never losing your lips. A squeak of surprise flooded the room when your back hit the mattress, "Emily! Oh my gosh" you gasped, "what's got into you?" Perhaps it was a rhetorical question but she answered you anyway with a nip to the base of your throat, "you and that damn hat." You couldn't help but smirk, a harmless silly thing had turned her this needy for you.

Any reply you may have had died on your tongue as you felt her mouth creeping lower and lower until she met your needy cunt. By now your wetness was seeping onto the sheets, "god I need more" you whined impatiently, moving your hands to her hat to hold her in place. Emily was always talented in ever aspect of life, but the way she would plunge her tongue into your tight little hole and curl it just right was enough to drive you insane, but then when she would add two fingers and move her mouth to your aching bundle of nerves you honestly saw the stars. If there was one thing Emily prides herself on is how well you scream her name as she fucks you with her tongue. In fact she swears that she would spend forever between your thighs and die a happy woman.  Yet when your tugging her up for a break from the overwhelming sensations she still feels a little glee at what she planned to come next.

A few sweet kisses and some soft praises found you straddling her lap, the new strap on pressing against your soaking slit. "Please daddy" you whimpered only to be met with a shake of her head. "Nahuh angel, you're gonna ride my cock like a good cowgirl for me" she purred in your ear before helping swivel you around to face her legs. Then the hat was settled on your had before she finally slipped into your awaiting core. "Oh fuck yes so good, so big daddy fuck" you mewled as you slowly began to bounce on her cock. "God you're so fucking sexy, bend over cowgirl I wanna see how I spilt you in two."

The moment you finally bent so she could see how her faux cock moved in and out of your slippery hole she could've swore she almost lost her composure. But her patience was rewarded when soon all you were was a whiny mess hardly able to keep a rhythm. Hands gripped onto her thighs like a life line and yet you still couldn't do as you were asked to. "Such a pathetic whore for my angel, and you were being my sweet girl and yet now you can't even do what a common whore could. I'm disappointed Angel" she murmured placing her hands on your hips. A whine escaped you, "mm sorry daddy I be good girl mm sorry" you whimpered over and over until she finally took pity on you.

With a pace that was perfectly fast and rough Emily slipped out of your cunt, ignoring your whines of protest and flipped you on your hands and knees before slamming back into your needy pussy. From there on she kept a punishing pace. Her hands gripping your braids to steady herself as she attempted to burry her cock into your womb. And you came over and over for her that night until you were nothing but her little angel absolutely fucked dumb.

"Shhh sweetheart you did so good for me darling" she murmured in between kissing all over your face to distract you from her pulling out. "Such a pretty cowgirl for your daddy" was what caused you to blush like a mad woman. You knew the routine Emily would get up to get a cloth and clean the strap but you didn't want her to go. But you didn't have the brain function to do more than whine at her, trying to convey what you wanted. "Shh two seconds my love, we have to clean up then I'm all yours baby."

Two seconds was all it was, and then Emily was back in before allowing you to snuggle up on her chest as her hands threaded through your beautiful hair. "So proud of you sweet girl" she whispered not expecting you to whine and mumble "disappoint you" the clearest you could. "No angel, you're my good girl, I love you my little cowgirl, you did so well baby, now rest angel, I'm right here."

Word count 1880

[sugurus-slxt]

Haikyuu Boys Walking In On You Dancing (smexy edition)

Lineup: Tsukishima Kei, Azumane Asahi, Kozume Kenma, Yamamoto Taketora and Oikawa Tōru.

Warning: cursing, one mention of alcohol, and suggestive smexy content

A/Note: So yes two in a day, I was extra motivated y’all don’t question it. It’s probably because it’s been so long. The songs are just what I like to listen to, m sorry.

Tsukishima Kei

♬♩♪♩ Sean Paul – She Doesn’t Mind ♩♪♩♬

Tsukishima was looking for his bluetooth headphones everywhere because he was positive he had left them on the couch, in the living room. However, they seemed to have grown legs and walked elsewhere, he joked to himself. “Y/N! Shorty! Have you seen my headphones?” he called loudly but no response. He walked through the house shouting your name but you were nowhere to be found. Tsukishima glanced at the clock on the wall; it read 4:30PM. He considered maybe you had been outside, possibly reading a book which you often did.

He was right; there you were blanket laid on the grass with the long-forgotten book and you standing up dancing with his headphones. You hadn’t seen him yet and he had considered stopping you but he just couldn’t. Kei stood at the door admiring the way your hips rolled and body moved. He wondered what you were listening to make you dance this way, so beautifully, so erotically. Tsukishima wasn’t much of a dancer but he’d love to be body to body with you right now. He had clearly gotten a bit too excited and the tent in his pants was proof. His cheeks burned red in embarrassment, you still dancing, unaware of his presence.

He quietly crept up behind you gently clasping his hands around your waist. You jumped a bit, immediately lowering the headphones. “I was looking for those you know,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “I- I’m sorry you can have them back now,” you apolgise trying to turn around. He held your body still, pressing his closer to yours. Then you felt it, the hardness pressed against your back, “But I want something else now. Hmmmm. Care to help me with it shortcake?” he asked his hands finding his way below your shirt, caressing your chest and brushing over your nipples. “K- Kei we’re outside. S-someone could see,” you tried reasoning.

“Really… Hmm you didn’t seem to mind a few seconds ago. So unless you want the neighbors to get a perfect view of your body being wrecked which I’m sure they wouldn’t mind get your ass on the bed upstairs right now,” he said biting your ear, eliciting a whimper from you. “I- y-yes sir,” you reply, pulling yourself from his grasp to go upstairs, he followed closely behind.

Azumane Asahi

♬♩♪♩ Bailando – Enrique Iglesias ♩♪♩♬

Asahi was busy at work in his office; with a tight deadline and 3 designs to perfect every waking hour was spent working. But he’s been staring at the blank page for the past 20 minutes with no breakthrough and it’s not because he couldn’t come up with anything, he just couldn’t concentrate. Why? Because right now you were just outside his door in the living room blasting music. It’s not like you meant to disturb him or had forgotten either, he just didn’t tell you.

He knows you’d insist on staying up to ungodly hours with him as he finished his designs so he told you he’d be in bed shortly, he just had some papers to sign. He hoped you would go to sleep but nope. Asahi wanted to leave you to your music he truly did, he knew you were happiest when you’re dancing and enjoying yourself but he wanted to enjoy it with you. The faster he finished the faster he could come and be with you, so he decided to tell you.

“Hey-,” the words died in his throat as his eyes landed on you. Asahi considered retreating to his office right now but he couldn’t move. You hadn’t heard him and he was kind of glad you didn’t. Your hips swayed to the beat, moving in just the right way, his eyes didn’t leave you. Your clothes hugged your body just right even if they were just sleepwear. Was that really what you wore to sleep he thought? If he had noticed all this sooner he was sure your nights would end a much different way. Asahi’s face flushed red; he cursed himself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts.

Your hands trailed up your body that was moving to the music as you finally turned to see him. “Oh! Hey, honey. I didn’t see you there,” you paused the music and walked up to him. “I- I wanted you to turn down the music. I- mean if that’s alright,” he said scratching his neck. “Yeah yeah. I’m sorry honey. Lemme do that and you can get back to your work,” you pulled his hand to your lips placing a kiss on them, and walking back to the speaker. “W-wait could you umm maybe help me with something. It's fine if you can’t,” he waved his hands in front of him. You look down to find a very turned-on Asahi and chuckled, “Mmmm Of course honey. Maybe next time you can join me dancing. I didn’t know you liked it so much.” Asahi hid his face in his hands as he followed you to the bedroom.

Kenma Kozume

♬♩♪♩ LUV – Tory Lanez ♩♪♩♬

Kenma was busy working a TikTok Livestream because his followers and subscribers have been bombarding his inbox with messages to get one. He was currently in the process of making sure everything was in order as people started popping in and saying hi. You were in the bedroom trying to strike up some inspiration but instead, you got so caught up in the music. Meanwhile, Kenma was telling them about his day but the chat was blowing up with questions so he had skipped over to answer them.

About an hour had passed and he was getting a bit hungry so he decided to headed over to the kitchen, phone in hand to get some apple pie from the fridge. Everyone started commenting typical Kodzuken, a couple people suggested that he ask you if you wanted any. His fan base was very familiar with your presence and often asked for ideas where he would interact with you. The community loved seeing the softer side of Kenma that came out when you were around. His phone was turned to face you so everyone could see you when he entered.

Not even five seconds after he opened the door he closed it. “Hey guys, ummm I need to go. I’ll come back later. Kodzuken out,” he quickly ended the stream and turned off his phone. “Hey, baby. Are you ok?” you peeked out from the door one side of your bluetooth earbuds still in. His face was tinted pink as he pushed you into the room, “I- Kitten … umm my fan base just saw… they ��� well how you were dancing and I-,” you stopped him pulling him to lay his head on your lap. “I’m sorry baby, but it’s nothing special. Was I bad?” You ask while stroking his hair but he sat straight up. “No! I mean no, you weren’t bad. It was just,” he played with his fingers, “It was just really seductive and it's that’s not really for my fan base to see. “

“Oh? Then who is it for then? Hmmm,” you asked in a teasing manner. He was embarrassed but still confidently answered, “For me ok. It’s for me now stop teasing me ok,” he pouted turning away from you. You giggled, “I’m sorry but maybe you want me to continue. For you alone that is?” He thought about it but then his stomach growled, “Ok I do but maybe eat some apple pie with me first?” You nodded and you both headed to the kitchen but don’t think he forgot about your suggestion.

Yamamoto Taketora

♬♩♪♩ Fast Wine – Machel Montano ♩♪♩♬

Today had gone by pretty slow, and you spent it watching movies and just spending time with Yamamoto. But now it was a bit later and you were feeling some creative juices flowing so you decided to put that to use you grabbed your stuff and set it up at the kitchen counter. He decided to up Kenma’s offer to play some games. About two hours had gone by and your shoulder was getting pretty sore. The playlist was pretty upbeat and just as you had gotten up a dance-worthy song had begun to play. You thought maybe it’d be a good warm-up.

You were swaying your body to the beat and getting in the rhythm. Your hips moved freely as you dragged your hand over your body and fit your dancing to the nature of the song. What you didn't know, is as soon as you started to dance Taketora was coming to get some snacks and check up on you. But his plans changed when he saw you dancing, he froze. If he went back now he’d definitely have to take a cold shower and he saw no difference if he stayed. So he decided to enjoy it for a bit. His cheeks were lightly dusted pink and the situation in his pants was only getting harder.

He felt weird just standing there, kind of like he was being a creep so he decided to quickly run to the kitchen and run back as the song came to a close. “H-hey baby. Just getting a snack and heading back,” he said hurriedly. “Oh ok. Did you enjoy the view?” you quirked your eyebrow smirking at him. “W-what? I didn’t see anything just you baby always se- I mean beautiful as ever,” he turned away from you and opened the fridge. You slowly walk up behind him, and start climbing your fingers up his arms, “Really nothing? I guess that’s too bad, I wanted to know what you thought. Guess I just have to assume it was terrible.”

“Wait! Baby your dancing is really amazing and sexy! How could you say it’s bad!” he shouted covering his face in realisation of what he just said. You burst out in a fit of laughter, it was so easy to get him to admit things, “Babe I’m sorry but I’m glad you like it. I didn’t know how much you saw I only caught you down to the end. But I’m glad you like it I but I do see that your little friend down there liked it much more.” You pointed down to his crotch which he covered while flushing bright red. “I’m sorry I- umm I’ll take care of it,” he apologised turning to leave. “How about we both have a shower and I can fix it for you hmm,” you held his hand and whispered in his ear. “Y-yes p-please. Thank you,” he looked down blushing as you led him to the bathroom.

Oikawa Tōru

♬♩♪♩ Hips Don’t Lie – Shakira ♩♪♩♬

Oikawa was gone for practice and you decided it’d be fun to catch up with your friends because it had been a while. You were on a video call and you guys had started talking about music and gotten into a bit of details about dancing. So now you and all your friends were showing their wining and grinding skills. This was a rather normal occurrence because in all honestly things always got wild between you guys. Put the three of you in a club and all eyes would be on you in no time. It was always a surprise how a couple shots could go such a long way.

You were going off to this song, all the seductive movements, hands dragging over the dips of your body and your hips moving at just the right tempo. Tōru had forgotten his water bottle and came back only to find you dancing. Turned on was an understatement but his time in Brazil gave him experience in more than one way and he was going to use that. This man was not shy but he did wait for the right moment to jump in. He came up behind you resting his hands on your waist, guiding your movement with his. “Hey cutie, moving that beautiful body of yours I see,” he whispered in your ear gently biting it. “You startled me,” you smiled still dancing as you put your arms back against his chest and dragged your body down his, slowly coming back up.

He started placing kisses on your neck, “Mmmm m sorry, fuck I’m not gonna make it to practice baby.” He twirled you away from his body only to bring you back and dip you. He smiled and pulled you up for a kiss. Suddenly, whistles and claps erupted, “Shit- I forgot I was talking to them.” He chuckled as they asked where they can find themselves an Oikawa Tōru. “Well ladies there’s only one and I don’t think Y/N-chan is sharing,” giving them a wink.

“Well, I don’t know you cause a lot more problems than fix them,” you joke as he clutched his chest. “How rude Y/N-chan! Maybe I’ll take your friends up on their offer then,” he crossed his arms and pouted childishly. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re all mine mister, and now what’s that about not going to practice. What did you have in mind?” you asked ending the call with your friends. He didn’t reply, just grabbed you by the waist and placed you on his lap, earning a small squeak from you.

Tell me if you'd like to see anyone else for this? Whether it's MHA or Haikyuu, maybe even Jujutsu Kaisen.

If you liked my writing, maybe you’d like to buy me a coffee?

[yellowcabdriver]

love language

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier wants to love you the right way.

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warning: none

A/N: this was written in like 20 minutes before I went to sleep so sorry in advance for mistakes 🥲 Also, a kiss on a head for those who guesses Javier’s love language I tried to force in here 🥰🤣

“What form of love language do you prefer?”

You raised your head from the paperwork you had been filling out for what seems like an eternity.

“What?”

Elena shook some heavy-looking glossy magazine in her hand.

“There’s a test in here. Wanna find out?”

You went back to filing the report and shrugged your shoulders.

“How many love languages are there anyway?”

“Umm…” Elena quickly flipped through a few pages. “Five.”

Usually, you were not the one to indulge in magazines, especially not at work but… it had been a long day at the embassy. Very long. You spent the first part of the day typing out reports for Noonan, then you had to go to the archive and sew together some old documents in a badly lit backroom in the company of, you were sure of it, a ghost of someone who died in that backroom choking on an ungodly amount of dust. Your back was aching, high heels required by the dress code were straight up slaughtering your feet one step at a time. And also, you were bored out of your mind.

“Wow, okay.” You sighed and plopped down on a chair. “Sure, let’s see. I needed a break anyway.”

With a victorious shriek, Elena started reading out questions and marking the answers down on the pages with a pencil that desperately needed to be sharpened.

“Okay, you got…” her lips inaudibly moved as she was counting the results. “You got words of affirmation.”

“Oh, bullshit!” You threw your head back in sardonic laughter and stretched out your legs. “I don’t enjoy being complemented at all, I always get super uncomfortable!”

Elena shrugged her shoulders as she was erasing her pencil notes from the magazine.

“Maybe you do, somewhere deep down.”

“Nope, not a chance,” you snickered. “Your magazine is full of lies.”

“Hey!” Jokingly offended, Elena hugged the magazine to her chest. “It’s my only entertainment in this lifeless pile of paper!”

“What did you get then?” You asked, propping your cheek with your palm making you sound all muffled.

“Acts of service.”

“Well then, I’ll tell David to serve you up real nice.”

An enemy missile in the form of a crumpled piece of paper landed on your table.

“Oh screw you!”

“What’s the hustle?”

Elena and you immediately straightened up at the voice of a visitor who, upon further inspection, turned out to be your boyfriend, Javier.

“It’s just me, not Noonan,” he raised his palms slowly walking to your table as you two relaxed into your previous positions. Javier sat down at the edge of your table next to your chair and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, this was his way of saying hello.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked. Boy, were you ever.

“Of course, I am. So tired,” you complained suppressing a yawn. Javier smiled, soothingly stroking your hand.

“Let’s just go home, they don’t even pay us any overtime anyway,” Elena muttered, shooting a resentful stare at the piles of documents in front of her.

“By the way,” Javier turned to look at Elena. “David is downstairs, I think you’re gonna catch up.”

These words were enough for Elena to throw away her magazine, which honour she was just defending by violating a Geneva Convention of friendship, and bolt out of office without further ado. You and Javier looked at each other in amusement and burst into laughter at the same time.

“We should also go.”

“Yep, let’s go home.”

Nominally, “home” was Javier’s apartment, it was closer to the office and was overall much nicer than your place. Driving down the familiar street—the next turn after that yellow house, you were thinking, is home—Javier put his hand on your lap and asked you:

“Why were you arguing with Elena? Did she do something to you?”

“Oh, she did, she Inflicted the pain of knowing the content of a beauty magazine,” you half-heartedly complained, enjoying the warmth of Javier’s large hand on your thigh. Javier grinned at your remark.

“That harsh, huh?”

“We were just bored and decided to take a dumb test from the magazine.”

Javier chuckled as he quickly glanced at you, his yellow aviators catching a glimpse of the setting sun.

“About what?”

“Something about love language.”

“And what about it?”

“Well, found out that my love language is apparently words of affirmation.”

The car slowly stopped in the driveway as you reached Javier’s apartment building.

“Really?” He smiled at you, kissing the back of your hand. You almost melted at the gesture of his casual affection.

“Yes, who would’ve thought, right?”

Javier laughed again, exiting the car and jogging to your side to open the door for you. You jumped down and placed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth as a thank you.

“So it means you need to hear words of affirmation every day? Like your Cleo?” Javier asked, locking the car doors and turning slightly to look at you with a smile. You snorted. “Your Cleo” was a plant sitting comfortably on a windowsill of your office. She was a dying little thing until you saved her from being literally abused in the dark hallway of the embassy. Once you got her into a well-lit room and started watering her properly with actual water and not residue 3-in-1 coffee, Cleo turned into a stunning blooming beauty. You did talk to her, mostly paying her compliments—yes, weird, but you read somewhere that plants responded to positive affirmation. Javier, of course, didn’t believe any of that but for you, and he highlighted that specifically, he would greet Cleo every now and then when he entered your and Elena’s office.

“I am not like Cleo!” You huffed, making Javier smile as he hugged you by your waist and you two started walking towards his apartment. “But I believe everyone flourishes under kind words, don’t you think?”

Javier opened the door to his place and let you enter first.

“That’s a fair point, hermosa.”

The evening went by as it usually did: you two ate a dinner that Javier quickly put together—you maybe were a better cook but a slow one, for sure. Then you went to put Javier’s clothes into a washing machine, a dreadful loud thing that was tumbling around so hard you were afraid it would explode, while Javier washed the dishes. Finally, you two settled on the coach to watch some classic evening telenovelas because nothing relaxes a person more than an intricate plot of a tv show where somehow everyone ends up being everyone’s relative.

You were very engulfed in an episode—main character shot a man who turned out to be her biological father,—when Javier quietly asked:

“Am I saying enough compliments to you?”

“What?” You let out an involuntary laughter but as you turned to look at Javier, he didn’t seem to be joking.

“You said your preferred love language is words of affirmation and I’m… cariño, you know I’m not good with words,” Javier let out a bitter chuckle rubbing his temple—a nervous habit. “Am I showing you enough love?”

Oh.

Oh.

That you didn’t expect.

You turned the volume down and quickly climbed on Javi’s lap. He uncomfortably glanced up at the ceiling with a vulnerability you never saw him exude before. You could see something you would believe was more of your thing—an insecurity of being not enough.

“Javi, please, look at me,” you took his face in your hands and he immediately left a quick kiss on your palm, like a reflex.

God, that man was gonna be the death of you.

“Javi, my love, I never said anything about my preferences, it was just a dumb magazine. And besides, I don’t need to hear compliments, you know I can’t even take them well!” you said causing Javier knowingly to raise his eyebrows in agreement. Your left hand found its way to the back of his head and into his soft curls making Javier groan quietly.

“I love you so much and I love your ways of showing affection. I feel loved, if anything I feel adored.” You let your right index finger trace his aquiline nose and Javier closed his eyes at your tender touch. You began to press soft kisses all over his face.

“You love me so well, Javier Peña. You are so caring, so wonderful, so handsome, and sooooo sexy…” you exhaled as your kisses reached his jaw and you felt him smile. “I love you, Javi. So so much.”

Javier opened his eyes and pulled you in for a proper kiss.

“I love you, too, mi corazon,” his hands gently squeezing your thighs.

As this gesture pressed you closer, you felt the tightness in his jeans. Jokingly widening your eyes you glanced down, between your bodies, as Javier offered you a shy boyish grin.

“Ohh, but I see that someone else’s love language is definitely words of affirmation.”

Javier’s hands slid under your shirt and tightened around your waist as he began to leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck prompting you to let out a shamelessly loud moan.

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that,” he softly said, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “I really love to hear your praise, mi amor.”

[indiavolojones]

Diavolo glances at his employer for the night, corners of his mouth turning up in a lazy smile at the other's presence.

“You’re still here?” Lucifer asks, standing by the side of the grand piano with his own glass, looking out into the crowd, “Your set is over. I’m not going to pay you for an encore.” 

alternate summary: classy lounge owner lucifer flirts with pianist diavolo! hahaha, you thought dialuci hour was over? think again, baybeeee.

2kish words, G, dialuci, #swanky lounges are tres sexy, y’all.

this fic is served best with some soft jazz and idk, maybe imagine a sepia tone over everything?

-

As the final notes of his song fade, a hand sets a glass of amber colored liquor on the folded lid of the piano. 

(On a coaster, of course. The beautifully made and maintained grand piano is easily worth $80,000 and Diavolo is doing well in his field, but not that well.) 

The hand belongs to none other than Lucifer, infamous owner of The Fall, the swankiest lounge in town, and for the last two hours of Diavolo's set, his boss. Diavolo glances at his employer for the night, corners of his mouth turning up in a lazy smile at the other's presence. 

“You’re still here?” Lucifer asks, discreetly polishing an imagined scuff on the pristine surface of the piano, “Your set is over. I’m not going to pay you for an encore.” 

In a sharp suit befitting his status, Lucifer is always dressed to the nines when he’s at work. The man is devastating to look upon, cutting a striking image as he looks out into the crowd. Honestly, Diavolo doesn’t think he’s seen Lucifer in anything less than a sports jacket… 

But he’d like to. 

(Maybe a cardigan. Oh, he’d love that.) 

Diavolo hums a few notes from the song still ringing in his head, the soft melody tapped into the rim of the glass. 

“And yet you’re buying me drinks?” Diavolo grins, an ungodly amount of satisfaction on his face from the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of Lucifer’s mouth. He’s not sure if it’s a frown or a smile, but it’s something. 

“If I’m getting a free show, I can probably afford to offer my musicians a drink or two." Lucifer says — dismissively, as if his standing near Diavolo is not a result of the unavoidable attraction between them, Lucifer drawn to Diavolo like Diavolo is drawn to him. Diavolo cocks a brow as Lucifer realizes his choice of phrasing.

“A free show –” Diavolo’s flirtatious tone is badly concealed as he speaks, interrupted by Lucifer's curt growl.

“Don’t.” 

Lucifer would be glaring at him, Diavolo is sure, if not for the casual bustle of the lounge’s patrons. In lieu of an answer that would likely get him kicked out, he raises the glass to his occasional employer, bringing the crystalline glass to his lips. 

The burn of the vapours numbing his mouth is familiar, almost like an old friend that still likes to roughhouse, but what really sticks out to Diavolo is the flavor. 

Diavolo’s not a whiskey connoisseur by any means, but he’s had enough of a variety of cheap and disgustingly expensive liquor in his life that he can tell immediately. Vanilla. Caramel. Dried fruit. Woody spice. A smoothness as he savors it in his mouth, licks the drops of it off his lips. Jack Daniel's tastes like sickly sweet maple syrup in comparison to the several drams of high quality liquor swirling around his glass. 

It's a damn good liquor, aged at least ten years, if his hunch is correct. Top shelf. Easily.

Diavolo glances down at it, something warm like the whiskey (but not quite the same) settling in his belly. 

Diavolo knows he shouldn't comment on it. He shouldn't tease Lucifer over a glass of what is likely a thirty dollar (at least!) glass of beautifully aged whiskey, because then Lucifer will abruptly stop as if he’s gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. Lucifer is a successful business owner, he has the means to be generous like this if he so chooses… 

But that's just it. If he so chooses. 

Diavolo loves that he chose to do it. For Diavolo! He could shout that off the rooftops, he’s so damn elated. 

Lucifer isn’t the type to spoil his employees in such a way – or his family, honestly. Lucifer’s a tough love kinda guy, and Diavolo’s definitely about that. He has to focus on not letting his stupid heart work itself into overdrive with delight that Lucifer is spoiling him so, after months of toeing the line between amusing himself by riling up a hot guy and not getting fired by his most lucrative gig. 

The universe both helps out, and ruins it all, with the nearby distraction of someone lighting a cigarette, harsh smoke filtering into the air. 

The acrid smell of it makes Lucifer’s nose twitch with displeasure – ah right, he’s been in the process of trying to quit smoking for pretty much as long as Diavolo’s known him. It must be hard when Lucifer’s in charge of a place that actively allows smoking indoors but… Lucifer has more willpower than most people Diavolo knows. 

The action does, however, seem to break the moment between them, jarring Lucifer out of the suspended tension of their chat. Diavolo stifles the flare of disappointment as Lucifer clears his throat, gaze flitting away as he sips from his own glass. Unwilling to let the conversation fade into awkwardness, Diavolo sets his glass back down on the coaster. 

“Well, I’ve got nothing else to do tonight but drink myself silly at your overpriced bar, so…” 

Diavolo stretches his arms up in the air and rolls his neck side to side, ignoring Lucifer’s scoff at overpriced. After an exaggerated shaking out of his hands, he places them back on the keys, before glancing once more at Lucifer, “Kick me out whenever your next musician is ready to go, yeah?” 

“Of course,” Lucifer hums, but there’s a slight quirk to his mouth when he heads back into the crowd. 

His departure is followed by the beginning notes of a song Diavolo makes up on the spot, inspired by Lucifer’s long fingers wrapped around clear crystal, and by the soft bite of the whiskey on his lips.

-

-

-

He plays the entire night, despite Lucifer’s loud denouncement of any further pay since his set is technically over.

Lucifer probably has another musician booked to cover the last few hours of the night, but no one disturbs Diavolo, lost in the mindless melody dancing over the keys. It is no hardship for Diavolo, especially when Lucifer requests no set playlist from him. Their clientele doesn’t seem to have a preference or notice, too caught up in being rich bastards, most likely. 

Diavolo loves his craft; he loves music more than anything else in his life. There’s something else here, something about his desire to mash the new and the old, to bring life into the classics – he hasn’t told Lucifer about this yet, but he thinks Lucifer would understand. Lucifer’s hired him more than once, so Diavolo knows that Lucifer likes how he plays at least. Diavolo wouldn’t have crossed over that threshold into The Fall a second time if Lucifer hadn’t been impressed with his skills.

Lucifer may look like the stereotypical hot, repressed business type, but Lucifer owns a jazz lounge. 

Sure, it’s swanky and pretentious as hell, and all of the drinks are stupid overpriced if you ask him – but jazz, at its heart, is filled with an inescapable, overwhelming joie de vivre that makes the countless hours of practice worth it. 

Diavolo knows that it’s late, probably around two in the morning.  In his peripherals, he noticed the patrons progressively filter out in their expensive suits and shiny cocktail dresses, swaying with contentment from the good food, great drinks, and even greater musical accompaniment. He doesn’t have a watch and, because he’s a professional, his phone is somewhere at the bottom of his backpack in the employee break room, but he keeps playing anyway, simply because it’s easy for him to do so.

Lucifer shows up again, probably wondering how to kick Diavolo out so that no patrons try to linger past closing to listen to his music. Diavolo senses his presence lingering at the edges of the small performance floor, but allows himself to lean into his music rather than acknowledge Lucifer. 

With Lucifer there, Diavolo blatantly puts on a bigger show. 

A performer through and through, Diavolo likes to add a flourish to his performances regardless, but with Lucifer standing at the edge of the polished wooden floor that separates the performer’s area from the general floor, he bumps the obnoxiousness up a few levels. 

Slow, sustained notes are held longer for the effect, hands moving fluidly as they sweep over the keys. He curls his shoulders in, curls them out, sways as if the music is guiding him, instead of the other way around. Tilts his head back, exposing the long line of his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone in a way that tends to make the older women in the crowd breathless and… 

Lucifer lets him, which is the funniest thing of them all, really. 

(He’s been so indulgent with Diavolo lately. He’ll get spoiled if Lucifer keeps this up.)

Gracious man that he is, he allows Diavolo to finish his song, a mindless melody led by his bold, sure right hand, gratuitous ease as his left hand follows instinctively. He switches his chords from the first inversion, to the second, never following a set decision and only choosing what feels right at the moment. 

He’ll never play this song the same way again, and he’s glad that Lucifer is there to hear it. 

“I hear you’ve got a lovely voice.” Diavolo says, once his foot lifts off the sustain pedal, notes fading. Diavolo turns to Lucifer, who seems (well, he’s stoic, but it’s Lucifer, so it’s subtle) surprised. 

“Like an angel.”

“Who told you that?” Lucifer asks, likely already narrowing down the suspects in his head. It’s Mammon, obviously, but Diavolo won’t throw him under the bus and Lucifer will figure it out anyway. Diavolo tries for a mysterious smile, and Lucifer tchs under his breath.

“Mammon.” Lucifer says, but Diavolo mumbles I plead the fifth with his hands held up placatingly, sending an unspoken prayer to the heavens for Mammon’s fate. It really wasn’t his fault, Diavolo’s just nosy.

“You should perform for your customers one day, they’d love it. I can be your accompanist.” Shifting gears, Diavolo leans back on the bench, one hand propping himself up on the edge of it as he tilts his head invitingly at Lucifer. “I’ll even give you a returning employer discount for my services.” 

Lucifer quirks one regal, haughty eyebrow, and Diavolo is startled with the sudden urge to kiss the arch of it. 

“An accompanist.” Lucifer says, a master at saying few words for maximum effect, “You.” His gaze flutters to Diavolo’s hands, clear disbelief that Diavolo could ever manage to behave. They seem to linger longer than intended, and Diavolo’s so, so glad he rolled up his sleeves a few hours ago. 

Diavolo allows himself to look mock-offended, pressing one hand to his chest, “You doubt me?” 

“I have always been under the assumption that being an accompanist means to follow someone else’s lead. Are you saying that you’d be amenable to that?”

It’s a clear reference to Diavolo’s fluid style of playing, loose in structure but full of excitement. Diavolo’s music denies what’s written on the sheet music, instead seeking out chaos and harmony in equal shares. An accompanist, traditionally, is not as much of a wild card as Diavolo’s style advertises. 

The laugh that bubbles from Diavolo’s chest is warm, inviting, and it shakes his shoulders with mirth. It holds him hostage for a bit, until it mellows out into a chuckle. He wipes at an invisible (read: nonexistent, for dramatic effect) tear from under his eye. 

“You got me,” Diavolo huffs, before allowing him to fully take in the sight of Lucifer at the end of a long night, the weary look in his eyes of someone that still has plenty of work to do. Lucifer should take more time off, Diavolo thinks, having an inkling of what Lucifer’s hectic schedule tends to look like. Maybe he just needs to blow off some steam.

“Maybe there just hasn’t been someone I’d like to take charge,” Diavolo settles on, words heavy with an offer, but vague enough to lend a way out. He turns to look back at the piano, lightly dragging his fingers along white keys in a soft, half-attempted glissando, but the smile still plays at his lips. 

Silence. 

Willing himself to not look up, Diavolo tries to catch Lucifer’s reaction in the polished black grand’s reflection. Of course, it’s a piano, and only offers a blurry, warped image that shows he hasn’t immediately run away at an obviously charged offer.  

“And there is now?” Lucifer asks. 

-

The liquor Lu serves Dia is a macallan 18yo triple cask single malt whiskey which is a fun $261 USD per bottle! don’t think too hard about my descriptions of jazz, i got lazy.

[ditch-witches]

Eyeliner (Dean-Charles Chapman x reader)

thank you to my dear love @chokopieeater​ for the moodboard. god bless your soul, you are everything to me.

(PART TWO)

requested: yes/no (If y'all want a part 2 lemme know because I wouldn't be opposed... maybe smutty...?)

pairing: band member!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: stUpId DiaLogUE

word count: 1,943

a/n: This brought me back to my Queen fandom days :)))) (also we can all agree that the boy isn't coordinated enough to play guitar, right?)

You slouched against the bar counter, stirring your drink and wondering why the hell you had gotten talked into attending this shindig as your friend circulated around the room, greeting people she knew from class and so on.

"Come on! It'll be fun!" Your friend smiled across the booth from you, her eyes dancing with excitement when she found out a local band was playing and she could get the two of you in.

"Yeah, what are they called again?" You asked, rather uninterested and debated making up some homework assignments to use as an excuse. She rifled through her bag rather violently, seemingly looking for the event flier one of the band members had probably slipped her in class. She was an undeclared groupie of the boys, swearing that one day they would blow up and you'd be sorry for not following them from the beginning.

"Something that starts with Revolting, I think..." she huffed, continuing to look for the crumpled green paper.

"I don't know why you're so obsessed. They're just trying to be Blink-182-"

Her head shot up, glaring at you. "Don't belittle their music. They are artists."

So there you were, head already clouded with the cigarette smoke hanging in the air and the residual smell of frat boy sweat. You sighed, thinking of the ungodly hour you had to be up the next morning and how much you would have rather been bundled up in bed watching Happy Days reruns right about now. The bartender gave you a small smile, topping off the drink you had barely touched and you gave him a nod in acceptance. You didn't look up when you heard the noise of amps being plugged in and guitars plucked, instead downing what you had in your hand and feeling your headache worsen by the minute. Someone came over the mic, introducing the band. The cockney accent sounded vaguely familiar to you, causing you to look up and lock eyes with the lead singer. You weren't sure where you met him before, maybe you just knew him from your friend's obsession.

You stood, walking over to lean against one of the beams holding up the ratty ceiling and crossing your arms as the singer smiled at you slightly, his pick tucked between his smile. How he so focused on you in a room full of crowded people puzzled you. Maybe he wasn't actually looking at you, the lights had to have been too bright. You watched his fingers swiftly moving from chord to chord, head bobbing slightly with an easy smile on his face. He was definitely in his element and you couldn't help but feel a sense of attraction to his confidence. You moved to another section of the crowd, performing an experiment of your own. His bright eyes were brought away from his instrument as he began to sing, his sight gliding over the audience before finally settling on you again, his smile brightening. You slyly looked over your shoulder to see if he could possibly be looking at another girl around you, fighting a small blush to creep onto your face as it almost felt like he was singing the unrecognizable garage band song to you.

Their set consisted of flirty glances and smirks sandwiched between the bass player fumbling around and adding solos that seemed like none of the band members were expecting, yet took in stride. It didn't seem like any of them were actually serious about playing. You caught sight of your friend, screaming her head off and jumping up and down with a few other girls that were probably just as into the band as she was. At one point one of the girls took the cigarette the lead singer was sporting and nearly screamed as they took a puff of their own. He just shook his head and chuckled at their actions. As the band made their closing remarks, you moved over to the bar, deciding that a water wasn't a bad idea for your trip home. Your friend was at your side almost instantly, peppering you with questions about what you thought of the show and what your favorite song had been. "God, isn't Dean so sexy?" she gushed, leaning her back against the bar next to your stool.

You furrowed your brows, deciding to humor her despite the fact that you had no idea which one he was. "The sexiest."

"I think we should go next time. I'm pretty sure there's a show on Thursday." You tilted your head at her words, furrowing your brows with a slight smile, but her eyes were glued to something else. The lead singer was moving through the lingering crowd of girls and---who you were assuming to be---friends of the band. He took a few pictures with people and signed a few body parts, his eyes continuously darting towards you and your friend. You rolled your own, turning back to face the bar and tipping the bartender, a man that you had grown to trust throughout the length of the night as he kept your glass filled and didn't ask for more money. "He's coming this way..." she whispered beside you, seemingly shrinking in size. You nodded, less than amused as you heard her titter slightly.

"Hey, thanks for coming out," the accent was suddenly behind you and you turned, looking at your friend taking his extended hand before she asked to get a picture and shoved her phone at you. You sighed, telling the two to smile as she hugged him tightly to her side and he obliged, lightly laughing at her actions.

"You guys sounded great tonight. I don't know if you remember me, but we have English together-" His eyebrows raised at your friend's comment, nodding his head and continuing in conversation after he finally remembered her name. You looked between them before your eyes flashed over to the crowd of girls slightly glaring at the two before you. It was quickly becoming clear to you just how popular this boy was. He leaned forward to whisper something into your friend's ear and her face lit up as he slipped her a piece of paper. You rolled your eyes as she almost bolted to the stage area, straight up to the drummer.

He leaned against the bar counter where she had previously stood and you damn near gathered your belongings to head out, but then remembered your friend. "So, is this your first show?" He asked. Despite the fact that you were sitting on a stool, he was still taller than you were, not in an intimidating way, but you made note of that fact. You also couldn't help but notice just how blue his eyes were when he was this close. For being in a grungy band like he was, you were surprised at just how pretty he actually was.

"Yeah, I came for moral support," you joked.

He grinned sarcastically. "That's so sweet of you." He put his hand over his heart and chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile. "Anything to back the cause," you quipped. "What did you tell her?" You asked, gesturing to your friend engaging in light conversation with the drummer; her smile a mile wide.

The boy next to you chuckled, looking at them too. "He wanted to talk to her. Thought she was cute, you know?" You gave him a look suggesting he was full of shit. "Okay, and I wanted the opportunity to talk to you."

You bit your lip. "And recruit me to be a groupie?" You fought not to laugh as he blushed slightly, the tips of his ears also turning a shade of pink.

"The captain position is open if you're interested?" He jeered, making you scoff.

"Tempting." Your friend rejoined your side with a huge grin on her face and bouncing with excitement. Your eyebrows raised in her direction as a smug expression made its way onto your face. You and the singer watched her compose herself. You heard him giggle quietly at her joy. "So?" You began, pretending the suspense was killing you.

She took a deep breath. "He asked me for my number."

You gasped. "That's great! Are we leaving now?"

"Rude," the boy beside you mumbled and you elbowed him, making him almost snicker. Your friend, still firmly on cloud nine, nodded at you, hugging her purse close to her chest. She thanked the boy and practically danced out of the bar and into the cab you had called. You turned back momentarily and met eyes with the boy again and he waved at you, a stupid grin sent your way to keep with you until you saw him again.

Little did you know, you wouldn't have to wait for long. The next day seemed to bring him right to your doorstep as you exited the building of your first class of the day and almost rammed into him. You tore out your headphones out of your ear and tilted your head at him. He grinned brightly. "Sorry," he muttered. In all honesty, you hadn't even recognized him in the daylight. You rocked back on your heel, relaxing slightly.

"Stalker," you jeered, starting to walk on your previous path. He turned to walk with you. "How'd you find me?"

He clicked his tongue, smiling at his shoes as he walked. "Your dear friend loves talking about you in class, and is incredibly nonchalant about dropping hints," he bit his lip slightly. "I figured I would pop by and see if you wanted company?"

"Yeah so, not stalkery at all," you stated sarcastically, making him chuckle. He looped his thumbs in the straps of his backpack.

"It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you," he coyly stated, slightly cringing at his words.

You pursed your lips to fit the urging smirk from breaking your exterior. "I bless the rains down in Africa..." you finished, causing you to break the tension in the air. He fully let out a laugh, a sound sweet and light enough that you couldn't help but grin at. It still shocked you just how soft he was, a complete hypocrisy to his appearance on stage. Despite it being a surprise, you liked it. "You look different without all the eyeliner," you quipped.

He inhaled sharply, as if nervous for your answer to his next question, his evident confidence becoming a facade before your eyes. "Good different or bad different?"

You shrugged slightly. "I like both, really. So good different, I guess," you answered and you could have sworn you saw the kid beam as you bumped his shoulder.

"Thanks, it's my mom's," he joked, making you smile again and shake your head. "I'm Dean, by the way." He stuck his hand towards you and you shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dean." The two of you got to your next building. You were slightly later than you wanted to be but as you took a few of the stairs towards the door and looked back at the boy in the dark hoodie, you knew it was worth it.

He smiled up at you and then his brows furrowed, a hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck---one of the first blatant signs of just how nervous you made him. "Before you go," he seemed to fumble for the right words, "are you busy tonight?" His blue eyes darted up to yours and you chuckled, your heart exploding with excitement you hadn't felt since you got an A on your calculus midterm.

You leaned against one of the railings. "Depends what you're doing. You can pick me up at seven if you're not busy."

His smile made your heart flutter as his face went from a taken aback manner to one of pure joy. "I'll clear my schedule."

[dolcenco]

I’m So Drunk

CNCO x Reader

Warning/s: Mentions of wild alcohol drinks which you shouldn’t try at home, kids. 

S/N: Hi everyone! so this is a spin-off or rather a part 2 of one of my fics, I’m So Wet and yes, it's connected to Ay, Mami Likes It Rough so this happened pre-AMLIR! This was actually a request but I forgot who requested it, whoever you are please make yourself known so I can credit you for this wonderful idea!

Sorry if this is kinda rusty, I havent been practicing :(

ON WITH THE FIC YO 

-

"Are you sure about this, Richuki?"

"Shit looks nasty."

"Don't do it!"

Richard had a nasty look on his face when the strong smell of mixed alcohol filled his nose. He held the cup away immediately and began to doubt his decision.

"What is it made of again?"

He looked like he was going to puke.

"Cuervo, Jack Daniel, Coke, and Ketchup" You smirked, amused and proud of how good you were at mixing drinks from hell.

You and the boys were playing a classic game of spin the bottle in your hotel room. They wanted a chill drinking session before things get busy tomorrow on tour. But things were far from chill when you all played truth or dare.

The rules were simple. When the bottle points at someone they are asked to choose between truth or dare. The fun part is if they refuse to tell the truth or do the dare, they have the take whatever drink is in front of them.

Such as Richard's current situation.

A mix of laughter and ew's echoed in the roon when Richard raised the cup to his lips.

"Rich, I think that ungodly concoction is not worth licking mustard off Zabdiel's toe." Joel bargains. He looked like he was about to puke too.

Rich looked down at Zabdiel's foot with the mustard spread, toes wiggling at his face. He shudders, bringing the cup to his lips.

"Hell nah, Bro. Ain't giving up the last of my dignity for Z's toe. Bottoms up."

You, Chris and Erick cheered while Joel and Zabdiel watched in disgust as Richard chugged down the drink.

"Nasty shit. Blergh. Fuck." Rich coughs, his tongue sticking out, chugging a bottle of water (wussy), as he spunthe bottle, choosing its next victim.

All of you watch as it goes round and round. You held in a breath when it starts to slow down and sighed in relief when it pointed at Joel instead of you.

"Yes!" You raised your hand in triumphed and nudged Joel. "Go Joelito!"

"Aw, no." He groans, not getting over the taste of Jack, Smirnoff and Jim Bean mixture he drank earlier.

"The bottle chose you, Jol" You snickered and patted his back.

Richard rubbed his hands together and smirked asking the magic questions. "Aight, curly. Truth or Dare?"

The game went on and on for minutes. The longer you all played, the more you sink into the alcohol high, a luxury feeling that will soon be repressed as the tour gets busy and all will grow tired to even have these moments.

You sighed and closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling, rolling your head back as you leaned towards your arms hands supporting your body.

When you sat up and fluttered your eyes open, Christopher was gazing at you. He licked his lips and bit the bottom before breaking his gaze to watch the dare.

Usually, that creeped you out but with Christopher, it made you feel hot and made you clamp your legs shut. Favoritism at its finest.

You took the opportunity to admire Christopher and melt at how well he looked with his gray beanie on and boyish smile. Oh, how you just want to hop on that di-

"(Y/n), truth or dare?" The sound of Erick's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, your attention riverting back to the game.

You blinked at him, "Uh, dare?"

Erick wickedly grins at your choice and you start to regret the decision instantly.

"I dare you to..." You watch his eyes dart from you to Christopher then back at you. "...to make-out with Christo"

Your jaw drops.

Howls and snickers bounced off the wall and you looked at Erick stunned at his dare.

Your eyes rapidly dart from Chris then at the shot in front of you.

As much as you want to taste Christopher's soft, luscious lips, you're afraid that you won't be able to control yourself and fuck the shit out of this boy.

Yes, you are crushing on him and is responsible for the many sexual frustrations he has given you but breaking the rule about sexual intimacy is something you're not planning on risking your job for.

"I'm not drunk enough to do that," You tell Erick, noting to deal with him later and chose the drink in front of you.

You gulped and stared at your cup. Mountains of salt and rum won't kill you, right? At least it won't kill your career. You finished the shot and coughed.

Nasty shit.

"Nothing personal, Chris. Just don't wanna lose my job." You apologized and he was being such a sweetheart by telling you not to worry about it.

Now I want to make out with you, you cute fuck

You continued the game and spun the bottle. You all anticipated, watching it go round and round until it pointed to none other than, Christopher.

"He's in your court now, (y/n)" Joel teased and you punched his arm lightly.

"Chris, Truth or dare?"

"Dare" He decided with no hesitation.

I dare you to pin me against the wall and kiss me senseless.

"Uh..." You rummaged through your brain for a good dare but seem to be stuck. You'd happily do the first suggestion but that contradicts your prior decision. Plus, you're not revealing your sexual frustration on Chris to these guys. You won't hear the end of it.

"Fuck, I got nothing!" You announced, taking a clean shot of Tequila.

"Hermano, I dare you to give (y/n) a body shot" Erick challenged, giving Rich a high-five.

Your jaw drops once again.

What that fuck

Erick gives you a teasing eyebrow wiggle and you just want to strangle the little shit.

"Erick, so help me I will-"

"Come here, Hermosa"

Your eyes snapped to Chris, surprised.

"What?" You asked, to make sure you heard him correctly.

"Come here so I can give you your body shot" He smirks, knowing damn well his effects on you.

It was as if like you were under his spell, your feet carried you across the room and sat down in front of him.

"What are you waiting for Mami?" He grins at you before biting his lower lip.

You looked at him confused before realizing that you needed to take your shirt off.

"Oh! Right sorry" You start to fumble with the ends of your shirt but before it reaches just above your chest, he stops you.

"What are you doing?" He giggles

"Don't I have to be shirtless for a body shot?" You asked, confused once again.

He shook his head, "no, babe you don't have to take your shirt off"

"Oh?” your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and wished the floor just swallowed you whole. Your one chance to act all sexy with your crush and here you are acting like a complete noob.  

Christopher reaches to move your hair to the side, exposing your neck to him. He takes a lime from glass and squeezes the juice on your skin. You bite your lip at the cool feeling of lime trickling down your skin. 

He tears a packet of salt and sprinkled it on the stripe of lime juice he made on your neck before raising the tequila shot. 

“You ready?” He asks and nodded your head. You didn’t trust your voice enough to respond. 

You watch as Christopher downs the shot with ease, hissing at the burning sensation before he leaned towards you and held your neck. Your skin shivered when his breath teasingly fans over your wet skin, keeping everything in you not to push his head towards your neck to feel his lips. 

Your breath hitches the moment you feel his tongue touch your wet skin, licking the juice and salt off your neck. Oh, how you wish he wouldn’t stop. 

A whimper escapes your lips when you feel him pull away, wishing he would continue his assault on your neck. 

You almost forgot that Zabdiel, Richard, Joel, and Erick were in the room with you, now howling and cheering. 

Your cheeks reddened when he grins at you before dropping a wink. You just melted right then and there and gather all your control not to kiss him. 

You avoided his gaze and returned back to your seat as he spun the bottle, Joel nudges you teasingly, not noticing that the bottle chose Erick. 

“Carajo, me again?!” 

“I think (y/n) can have my turn to ask truth or dare? Since Erick got their chance earlier? Only fair. ” Christopher grins, the awkwardness you were feeling immediately diminishing. 

You devilishly grinned at Erick, imagining the things you can make him do, “It’s payback time, Erick,” 

*

When everyone retired to their rooms, you stayed behind to fix the mess in the kitchen. You were drying the glasses when you feel someone come up behind you and whispered int your ear. “You owe me a dare, baby girl.” 

You jumped to see Christopher reach pass you for a glass, “What?” 

You heard him but you wanted to make sure you heard it right. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, filling up the glass. “Nothing,” 

You watch as he chugs on the water, his gaze not breaking yours. He returns the bottle in the fridge and quickly washed the glass. 

“C’mon Chris what was that?” You begged, touching his arm. 

He only shakes his head and kissed your cheek. “Good night, (y/n)” 

“Aw c’mon, Chris!” You cried and he just walks past you, giving you a wink before leaving the hotel room. 

You were left curious and trying to figure out what he meant. 

What dare?

After a moment or two, realization hits when you finally remember what dare you exactly owed him and it was the stupid dare you had to refuse. 

I dare you to make-out with Christopher. 

[leslie-lyman]

^me, finally coming out of the sugar coma this installment put me in to do a proper reblog like it and you DESERVE

Okay first of all, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Sunday’s dress!! There is just something about fancy dresses in that color that is just 🤌🤌🤌. And it’s the perfect combo of sexiness and femininity and elegance with its soft skirt and flowy fabric. 15/10 would absolutely wear anywhere given the slightest excuse.

I also have a weakness for madeleines. When I studied abroad in Paris, I would buy them in bulk from my local grocery and eat several every single night after dinner (and I would buy chocolate-filled ones and then slather them in an ungodly amount of Nutella and felt as though I lived like a king). The idea of versions of lemon with almond glaze and orange with chocolate ganache is making me drool all over my phone. For whatever reason I’ve never tried to make them at home, but now you have me thinking…..

If you can find your favorite black dress–the one that Javi likes, the one that fits so well–that should do. It’s a little simple, but who’s going to notice what the assistant is wearing, really?

“The one that Javi likes” is just a phrase that’s so casually dropped in there, but it’s potential implications are so loaded! And who’s going to notice what the assistant is wearing indeed. 😏😏😏

you hadn’t noticed the little “oh” that escaped your lips.

But Javi did. He leaned in at your ear. “This one is your favorite?”

The way this man pays attention to her!! (Honestly this gives me vibes of my husband a lil bit, in that I have to be careful what I say about stuff I like because he always makes note of it, and I have said “oh I like that” many times just casually without thinking and then at the next opportunity, boom, he’s gotten it for me as a gift.)

“It’s beautiful.”

“I think so too.”

The way this man is absolutely 100% already picturing her in this dress though. 😍

He’d said, “You are my girl, Sunday.”

MA’AM PLEASE I LOVE IT AND THEM AND YOU SO MUCH.

“Bomboncita, let me see my work on you.”

You give a humble laugh and he turns you like a mannequin, checking the hang and drape, pulling at a strap so it splays just so. He’s a fashionable young man, tall and broad like his cousin, but darker in complexion with a razored chinstrap beard and a permanent smirk.

Listen, does Niko (who I am def picturing as Oberyn, I see you with the chinstrap comment and I am here! for! it!) happen to also need an assistant, cause, uh, I’d happily volunteer.

His laugh is as light as his fingers when they trace over a cleverly hidden diagonal seam down your left side. “Here. But. It is always fun to ask someone special to bind you in something beautiful, no?”

Give me this trope for ever and ever and ever I will gobble it up like a madeleine covered in Nutella every damn time!!!! And also I fucking adore the way you describe it here, something about the phrasing is so beautiful and sensuous and caring and maybe it’s just cause I’m picturing Oberyn but a little horny too??

There are a couple points in the evening when Javi sidles up as you’re chatting with a group, slipping into the circle and quietly taking your hand. Every now and then he goes uncharacteristically silent, and it’s in these moments that you catch him watching you in unabashed contentment, not bothering to hide the pride he has in his choice of date.

This man goes from infodumping on some poor unsuspecting party guest about why Terminator 2 is James Cameron’s magnum opus instead of Titanic or something to just quietly going over and holding Sunday’s hand and being so absolutely in love with her he can’t find the words to talk about anything at all. I’m soft. I’m weak. I’m fucking done. I love him, your honor. Guilty as charged.

“Oh. Speaking of buttons. Niko told me this dress has a zipper.”

Javi simply beams. “Yes, I know it does.”

“Wait.” You blink. “What do you mean, you know?”

I laughed out loud at this. He is such a devious little shit sometimes but I cannot possibly be mad at him!!

Adira, the meeting. The meetingggggggggg. I cannot wait. I am vibrating with anticipation. It is going to kill me with sweetness, I know it, but it is a death I will gladly walk into the arms of.

The Blatant Presentation of Glowing Adoration

(DIPPED MADELEINES- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Sappy, y’all. I just pile on the sap. This cupcake is just a vehicle for the frosting.

Summary: There’s a party going on at the Gutierrez mansion and Javi has a gift for you.

A/N: This was originally going to be a two-parter to control the sap, but I thought maybe drawing it out would make it worse, so here we are. Sunday’s dress is based on this one and holy balls I want it.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

Keep reading

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles Towers. || 8.

Author’s Note: Hey, hey!! Here is part 8. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I have writing it. Let me know what you think and message me. :) xx

Warning: Rated M for Mature audiences.

Don’t forget the other links: The first book Can also be found on WattPad, HERE. The first book found HERE

You can find my blurb Master list HERE

                    || Don’t stop to smell the Roses. ||

                                                   || Elise. ||

The warmth around my body leaves from being enveloped around me for most the night and I feel the comforter moving slightly from under my grasp.

My eyes open and blink a few times, gradually adjusting to being awake. I watch Harry’s silhouette gingerly make it’s way around the bed, his figure settling in front of the wardrobe, his hand wrapping around the handle before discreetly drawing the doors open, being vigilant to pull them in a certain way so they don’t creak and wake me.

He’s considerate like that, perpetually doing his best to be as placid as possible in the ungodly hours of the morning.

I watch his hands intertwine with the fabric of his t-shirt before he hauls it over his head and tosses it into the hamper for dirty clothes in the corner of the room. It’s arduous not to admire him without a shirt on. It’s as fascinating as it is sexy to see the shape of his muscles and the way they stretch and contract as he moves.

He lets out a heavy groan as he draws his shirt up his arms and brings the fabric to his front. His fingers work gradually to button the buttons from the bottom, moderately hiding the beautiful body and the few tattoos painted on his arms. He turns back towards the wardrobe and steps in and I lose him in the closet. I lie quietly, soaking up the warmth of the covers, continuing to admire my view—Nice ass—.

He turns back toward the bed to see how I’m doing and that’s when he realizes I’m awake and he completely freezes.

“how long have you been awake?” Harry sounds as though he doesn’t even recognize his own voice.

“A couple minutes,” I speak softly, my voice a little raspy from being quiet overnight night. I can tell he can see it in my eyes that I have been awake long enough to watch him get dressed. The look in his eyes tells me he wants to be mad at me.

He watches me shift back the covers before thoroughly sliding out of bed. I let out a small shiver as my feet hit the raw floorboards before I make my way towards him.

“You’re still handsome to me, you know?” I answer softly, my hands coming to rest on his waist.

Since he has been home, I have noticed how he doesn’t roam the house in the same way he did. At night, he usually just wears a pair of sweatpants and leaves his torso exposed— he hates sleeping with shirts on— even in winter he tends to stay shirtless. But since his accident, he has hidden his body like he’s ashamed of it— self-conscious you could say. I have come to notice how he tends to get dressed when I’m not looking or busy in another room.

“scars and all. I don’t like how they got there, but I find them kinda sexy if I’m honest.” I grin cheekily.

He doesn’t really smile back, I can see he wants to do, but he just won’t allow himself to.

“You don’t have to sugar coat it. I know my body doesn’t look the same as it did before.” His voice is faint and saddening, his eyes leaving their gaze with mine for a brief moment.

“To a small extent, I know how hard this is for you. I’ve struggled with my own appearance and how I look and you were always there to remind me how beautiful I am. That we’re all beautiful in our own way. I’m not sugarcoating anything as some half-assed attempt to make you feel better. And I’m not saying it because I’m your wife. I’m saying it because it’s true. But more than anything, I’m just pleased that you’re still alive and you came back to me. Your scars don’t have to be a negative thing. They are a symbol of the battle you fought and won.” I express my words in a way that I hope comforts him.

I know his body doesn’t resemble the same as it used to. I know it is laced with a few scars, but I’d rather have those marks than to not have him at all. The scars merely are just a representation of the fact he fought a battle that wasn’t easy and despite it all, he won. They’re his story.

Harry shrugs and takes a step away from me, “You are beautiful.” He reminds me with a small smile. “My body changed and I don’t like it, at least, not right now.”

“You know, my body is going to change and probably won’t be the same again…” I trail off, suddenly becoming aware that maybe his distaste for his body will become a dislike he has for my own.

He shakes his head, his lips pursing into a fine line as he steps back towards me and caressing his hands to rest on my hips. He tenderly lures me closer to him. “You’ll always be beautiful to me, nothing can change that.”

“Then why can’t you understand that about yours? Hmm. You don’t need to hide from me.”

He swallows hard and his lip catches between his teeth as silence coats the room for a moment. I cock my head slightly to the side, my eyes glued to his while his mind plausibly races with various different thoughts.

He’s fighting a battle with himself, one that he will never win.

Harry clears his throat before kissing my lips, “good morning,” he mumbles against them, changing the subject in an attempt to wiggle his way out of my point.

“Good morning,”

“You should get back in bed, it’s only five-fifteen,” he gestures towards the bed that is, indeed, calling my name despite being bare and cold by now. “I can see in the way your lips are curling you want to fight me on this,” Harry points out before brushing his lips again against mine, “please don’t,” he whispers, putting a little distance between us.

“I’ll go back to bed if you stop being hard on yourself, really, you’re perfect to me.”

“I’ll do my best,” he nods, gently guiding me back to the bed protectively.

He tugs the covers over my body and I concede my fingers to curl around the edges of them, drawing them tighter around me. “Blanket hog,” he chuckles jokingly, delighted by the way I manage to force the comforter tightly around me.

“It’s bloody cold in here because you refuse to turn the heat on until it hits winter,”

“Mhm, until it hits single digits outside, there’s no need,” Harry defends his reasons for not wanting the heat on.

The truth is, he’s warm bodied and can’t sleep if the room is too warm, having my body pressed to his side also doesn’t help, so I understand his logic. But, I also know that the second he walks out of the bedroom he’s going to turn the heat on for me. It’s something he always does, if he notices I’m wrapped up in the comforter tighter than usual. “Do you need anything before I head to work?” Harry offers sweetly, reminding me of the reason why I forced myself out of bed in the first place— a cold drink.

“Water with ice.” I give him a small smile and he nods, not thinking twice before leaving me alone in the bedroom.

I listen warily for his heavy footsteps, making it my mission to listen for when he reaches the stairs before counting each step to make sure he safely executed his way down them. I still worry about him, I really can’t help it.

Harry steps back into the room with my ice cold drink. “Elle, isn’t this bad for you?” He summons, handing me the drink, the coldness instantly touching the tips of my fingers and sending a cold chill down my spine.

I ignore his comment and take a sip, delighted to feel the cold rush of the water rush down my throat, I find it to be a rather soothing feeling. “Can I talk to you about something quickly while you’re awake?” Harry challenges as I indulge in another sip of the water that I am mentally glorifying right now. I never knew how satisfying iced water could possibly be to me.

I give Harry a nod as he begins to wander around the room, his hands reaching for one of his ties he set out for his day. “Well, Logan needs help, money type of help. I know things have been a roller coaster the last few days with everything and at one point I thought all our assets would freeze, but things are looking up…” Harry begins and trails off, not really asking me any sort of question, but instead stumbling around with his words.

“Harry, what’s the question?”

“I guess… should we help him?” Harry suggests as his hands wrestle with his tie, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he awaits my answer.

I don’t really think he is asking for my permission but more for my guidance. I think he is a little bit confused and lost in that mind of his.

I place my glass on the nightstand before proceeding to speak. “Harry, I don’t know what our finances look like right now and I don’t want to know because I don’t need to stress out… but, if you think we can spare the money, I think you should consider helping him. He is your brother— and before you jump down my throat, whether you like it or not, you two are related. Think of it as you giving him a chance to redeem himself from past mistakes. Worst comes to worst, you’re being a good person by helping someone else. Just think about it for a little.” I inform Harry on my thoughts of what he should do.

At the end of the day, this is his decision, not mine. I can only stand by him and support whatever he decides.

Harry gives me a shrug before he strides closer to the bed and wanders closer to me, “I have to go, I’ll see you at lunchtime. Jus’ a half day.” He informs me, leaning down and kissing my lips before I can say a word.

As selfish as this sounds, I kind of wish he wasn’t given some leeway with his business. A week of just me and him wasn’t enough for my liking. I’m self-centred and want him all to myself. But, at least now he’s allowed a little control of his company and isn’t exiled into the dark shadows as much. I just hope he knows how to mend the mess that the company is in. I still don’t know how he managed to sort a few things out or even how he got in the mess, to begin with.

*** ***

I stand by the French doors that overlook the garden with a cup of tea in my hand. My eyes become delighted with the morning landscape, the dew and fog still patchy across the grass and hazy at the base of the trees in the distance. With constantly working, I haven’t had the time to appreciate the small things life has to offer, like the way nature presents itself at different times of the year.

My attention is diverted as the ringing of the doorbell echoes the house. I place my tea down on the coffee counter as I bypass it and pad my way down the hallway and to the front door. I draw my cardigan around my front as I open the door, the morning air swirling around me immediately. I’m greeted by a delivery man holding roses and a small box, “Elise?” He questions and I nod, carefully taking them from him and politely saying goodbye.

I carry the roses and box to the kitchen, placing them down before grasping my tea.

My eyes take in the stunning, rich colours of red and black. That’s when it occurs to me. This arrangement is particularly different to the arrangements Harry ordinarily sends me.

He has never sent me red roses mixed with black.

On special occasion, such as anniversaries, he sends me red roses that are sometimes accompanied by white roses - both symbolizing love and honour. On my birthday, he sends me something diverse every year, alternating the shades so it’s always a surprise. Last year, he sent the most beautiful custom rose bouquet I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

When he wants to apologize - pity flowers - he tends to send them in a soft pastel pink with a card that has a handwritten apology scribbled on it. It’s the black that throws me for a loop. Maybe this is a new thing.

I open the small box that the flowers came with, delighted to observe a box of chocolates before me. Perfect.

I smile to myself as I take a bite and admire the fact that he’s so sweet, sending me flowers for no real reason.

“Hey, thanks for the flowers and chocolate!”

“Elle, what flowers?CEO. Styles.& Co -Harry.”

Before I can respond my phone begins to ring with his name popping up on the screen. I slide across and answer his call.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Elise, what flowers are you talking about?” Harry asks softly, the sound of his fingers typing at his computer echoing through the phone.

“The ones in front of me,” I inform him.

“Sweetheart, I wish I could take the credit, but I haven’t sent you roses.. hold on… Anastasia did you send flowers to Elise?…” I hear Harry call to his assistant as shuffling becomes evident through the phone, “Yeah, Elise those aren’t from me.” Harry informs me, my brows instantly furrowing as I stare at the roses from an unknown individual, chocolate coated at my lips. “Sweetheart, is there a card? Maybe they got delivered to the wrong address?” Harry questions and I take another look, my hand moving the roses tenderly in search for a card.

“No. And the delivery guy said they were for me,” I inform Harry, the bustle of his office coming through in the background of his phone call.

I hear him sigh heavily, a slamming of a drawer instantly taking me by surprise, “I’ll call you back. Just—, just leave the flowers until I get home.”

“Oh, okay… I’ll talk to you later,” I conclude the phone call, not bothering to question Harry. There’s no doubt in my mind he is in business mode and doesn’t need to be on the phone to me while in his office.

*** ***

I hear my name echoing through the walls of the house, Harry’s voice sounding as though it’s being amplified louder than it needs to be. 

I gingerly sit up on the couch and stand to my feet, my hands tugging my cardigan around my front as I hear the soft mumbles of two voices and force myself down the hallway, stunned when I observe Harry holding the door for Logan, “So damn slow. I have a fucked boy and still, I am faster than you,” Harry mutters as Logan appears to accompany Harry in tow.

“You parked closer to the door,” Logan defends his slowness, gesturing towards the distance between the two cars and the front door.

Harry rolls his eyes and shifts the door shut, “Excuses, excuses.” Harry grumbles as Logan steps closer and gives me a small smile before granting me a fragile hug. At first, I’m surprised but I shrug it off and hug him back.

When Logan steps away, my eyes flicker towards Harry. He’s standing with his back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest with a raised brow. He doesn’t look too amused. Oops.

He clears his throat and shakes his head before stepping away from the door and shuffling closer to me, “Hey,” he simply greets, caressing an expeditious peck to my lips as a simple acknowledgement. I assume he isn’t pleased with my welcoming of Logan.

“Hey.” I murmur, stepping away from Harry and gazing at the two of them. They both resemble like they’re on some sort of mission— they have this glimpse dangled in their eyes— and it isn’t the brotherly resemblance either.

Harry steps forward and takes a lead down the hallway and Logan and I follow in his footsteps. I notice as Logan looks around, taking in the surroundings of the house like it’s a foreign place, then I realise. He has never been inside the house, at least not this far in.

I don’t think he has made it past the front door before.

“Nice house, those are admirable pictures.” Logan compliments the photos on the wall of Harry and me.

Everywhere you turn in our house there are photos of our relationship, I have no issue showing us off. Harry, on the other hand, his office says it all. There’s one photo frame of the two of us from our engagement on his desk, and a small collage print on his shelves. He’s not into public showings of the relationship through photos. I haven’t quite figured out why. But, he let me have my way with decorating the house to make it home-y.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Logan.” Harry chimes and I instantly glare towards Harry. He rolls his eyes and clears his throat, “but thank you. Elise does look gorgeous in all photographs.” Harry recovers his he-ass comment.

“She does, too bad she has a nitwit beside her,” Logan throws a cheap shot towards Harry and I roll my eyes. Harry shrugs and ignores his comment.

“Why are you even here?”

“Because you wanted me to help you figure out who sent flowers to Elise.”

“Ah, yes,” Harry nods, “put yourself to good use.” Harry gestures for Logan to shuffle closer to the petals on the kitchen counter and Logan does exactly that.

I watch as the two of them hover over the arrangements as if they’re detectives endeavoring to obtain the world’s deadliest mystery of the roses. They’re being a little over the top, but I don’t dare tell either of them that.

I sit up on a stool and watch the two of them share glances towards each other before Logan presses his hands to the bottom of the base and turns the roses around.

“Logan,” Harry instantly scolds,

“Christ, not like it’s going to bite me,” Logan mutters,

“Wish it fucking would.”

“Elle… Elle,” Harry’s voice distracts me from my bewildered gaze and I lift my head off the palm of my head and glance towards him. “Hey, are you okay? Been trying to get your attention,” Harry informs me as I stroke small circles on my stomach with the palm of my hand.

“Sorry, I think morning sickness is kicking in… what do you need?” I question, staring at the two idiots that are still prancing around the roses.

“What time did they arrive?” Harry questions and I shrug.

I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention to the time, I was busy admiring the roses I thought my husband sent me.

He transfers closer to me and stands behind me before laying an arm around me and caressing his hand to my stomach, moving mine away and soothingly massaging small circles while Logan throws out some theories, Harry disagreeing with all of them.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit ridiculous that you’re spending time on this? They’re just flowers.” I bring into question, Logan immediately flicking his eyes towards me with the same dark and powerful stare as Harry.

If anything streams in the bloodline between them, it is definitely that dark relentless stare that pierces the soul and makes one question their existence.

“No.” He dismisses my comment rather promptly.

“Oi–“ Harry’s voice travels swiftly from his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” Logan instantly corrects his tone of voice, apologizing for his dismissal. “Black roses aren’t something normal people send unless for decoration or Halloween.”

“Well, I gathered that.” Harry sighs.

“A black rose was used by the Sicilian mafia as a message. It’s like the kiss of death.” Logan informs us, only causing me to roll my eyes. They are taking this far too seriously.

“This isn’t some kind of mafia movie, they’re flowers,” I mutter softly with a heavy huff.

If only the two of them would pour this much effort into working on their relationship. “You two should put this energy into sorting out the mess between the two of you,” I speak my mind as Logan flicks his eyes back towards me.

Harry scoffs from behind me and I open my mouth to speak, “seriously, maybe the two of you wouldn’t be fucking annoying.”

In this moment, the two of them are on my nerves and acting ludicrous, in my opinion.

“I see your tendencies have rubbed off on her,” Logan muses with a chuckle but he stops the second I narrow my eyes onto him. “Harry, is she going to kill me?” Logan murmurs, not amused by my unrelenting stare.  

“She’d be doing us a favour,” Harry grunts, his words whether joking or not, striking my nerves.

“If I hear one more snarky comment from the two of you, I’ll bury you in the back garden,” I press my hands to the edge of the counter, making sure the tone of my voice conveys my message. They both grow withdrawn and I slide off the stool with a slight wince and intake of air.

“Elise, are you okay?” Logan’s voice is laced with concern and I give him a nod, ready to stride away, but I’m stopped by Harry.

He benevolently lures me back towards him and forces me to face him, his eyes burning into me as if they’re ready to brand me. I go to give him a small smile but it turns to a grimace and a heavy breath again as the same, uncomfortable writhing pain laces my stomach and travels through me.

I can see in his eyes he’s ready to jump at me with many questions. He’s waiting to be my saving grace and be at my beckon call.

I lean up and kiss his cheek before he can say a word before I begin to speak, “I’m going upstairs. Morning-Midday-sickness really isn’t my thing.”

“That was a grimace of pain,” Harry instantly states,

“Try not to kill each other.” I gesture between the two of them as I step away from Harry.

“Elle, I’ll take you up–“ he begins to offer to escort me upstairs but I shake my head and cut him off.

“No,” I bluntly respond.

He doesn’t need to always be my knight in shining armour. I’m capable of making my way to the stairs and up to the bedroom without falling and shattering to pieces like a porcelain doll. I know he’s just trying to be a caring husband, but ever since I announced the news, he has been breathing down my neck and ready to be at my beckon call. I know it’s just his protective and loving side kicking in. But I have been independent for a long time, even during the relationship and marriage. I can look after myself.

It’s when I’m halfway down the hallway that the sudden realization that my body doesn’t want to go any further catches me. But, against its own plea and will, I force it closer to the stairs, doing my best to think about how good it’ll feel to get to the soft bed waiting for me. My legs feel heavier and the steps my feet take exhibit like they’re taking an excessive about of energy from me. I rub my eyes for a moment to focus, the blur not settling and fading as I stumble slightly before catching my balance.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. I know, in this moment, that I don’t need to be stubborn and that having Harry’s warm help may be beneficial. “hey, Harry?” My voice croaks and my lips feel dry as I feel a bit breathless. The air exhibits as though it’s gradually becoming dry and nonexistent, it endeavours as though it’s a sense of drowning. My lungs desperately want to taste the fresh air, but the air doesn’t want to be grasped in the depths.

When I don’t hear a reply or the echo of Harry’s shoes bouncing off of the flooring, I take it upon myself to continue my journey. My shaky hand manages to catch the bannister as I double over with a little pain, the walls of the house abruptly circling around me and closing in on me.

This can’t be happening.

The lighting seems brighter and hurts my eyes as the coldness in my body leaves and I become overwhelmed with severe warmth, my thin cardigan becoming heavily coated as it rests on my shoulders. Nausea settles in the pit of my stomach as the twisting pain continues to creep up on me, dizziness casting itself upon me rather strongly as I attempt to take another deep breath.

My fingers curl and I try to steady myself, desperately needing to settle myself down and sit. But I can’t find it in me to muster up the energy to move. “Harry, Logan.” I attempt to travel my voice to reach them in the kitchen, struggling to keep my eyes open and my breaths steady.

I’m surrounded by air but I can’t breathe. How ironic.

I hear the screeching of the bar stool legs creaking against the flooring, everything moving at a fast pace no matter how I hard I attempt to stop it.

“Elise?” It’s Logan’s voice that softly grasps my attention as I grapple to focus on his moving figure that is striding towards me.

“Something’s not right.” My voice is weak as it leaves my lips, my body simultaneously feeling both hot and cold at the same time with constant nausea.

I feel myself sway and my hand leave it’s grasped position on the bannister, “Harry!” Logan’s voice rings through my ears as dizziness sets in harsher than I’ve ever experienced.

Everything becomes a blurred image circling me before everything turns to black.

(Tell me what you think, HERE.). Xx

[jusadode-blog]

ONE MONTH OF T (in 2 days but I set my T days for fridays to align with my pharmacy)! THE SHIT I’VE NOTICED SO FAR (nsfw warning):

Please note: I am a special case and very reactive to T. My results so far are not the usual, so don’t use this as a reference post for your own experiences but more of just things that can or will happen in your own eventually. Also, if you notice these major changes very quickly, talk with your doctor to keep an eye on your t-levels since taking the usual dosage could be life-threatening. I had to personally (entirely by my own choice to the suprise of my doctor) to delay my shift to full dosage for another month due to risks involved. If at any point you feel like T is hellish or giving you too many bad side effects, talk with your doctor and they can lower it or give you other treatments to cope with the things. This is also super fucking disorganized, so if you wanna take tidbits of this and use it in your own masterpost go fucking wild mates. Also this format is fucking ugly but <3

Okay, so first and foremost: They weren’t lying, Testosterone does raise your libido. HOWEVER: After the initial shot it’s been pretty chill for me afterwards, even as a very sexual person. If you’re sex repulsed, ,asexual, or just don’t like the feeling of being horny, you might want to talk to your doctor about options to possibly lower your libido again if the T triggers it after more than a month. 

[NSFW] Testosterone made sex EASIER for me (personally). I used to be dry as a bone pre-T and just assumed I had some issues with vaginal stuff and would probably need to be put on estrogen cream like some other dudes and pals [also, most doctors will wait before giving you estrogen cream as that can actual cause more damage if unnecessary). The very first week I started T though? The rivers were flowing, the drought was over, and sex also became a lot easier for me (Albeit still hard since I have other issues going on). Also, suddenly I was experiencing “physical” horniness again (something I hadn’t had since middleschool) without the need of “psychological” horniness first. Like, usually I had to think of sexy stuff to get my gears going but suddenly just my body is throwing open the doors and windows now before I even know I’m even turned on mentally.

Your doctor might start you out on the half-recommended dosage for transitioning, this sounds SUPER scary to binary trans guys and enbies who want results fast, but honestly? Sometimes, your body reacts more. I literally have tripple the dick length and diameter I originally had in under a month (still under an inch), my chest is already more masculine shaped and drooping, as well as my voice is trying to figure out what the fuck is going on (I can feel it being funky). In one month. If I had started on the regular dosage, I might have actually died since I’m so receptive to testosterone. 

*Something* might change in you. Literally the first week after getting my shot, I suddenly was over 80% happier, more relaxed, and almost all of my social anxiety was out the window. Rather than being afraid and skittish in public, I’m more of just uncomfortable now. Also, I went from a bottom-veering verse to a top-veering verse, as well as I’ve found it a lot easier to look at other guys and be attracted to them comfortably??? This is probably almost entirely psychology related rather than biology, but still worth mentioning. It’s not like I changed as a person btw, it’s more of it’s easier to be happier as well as it’s easier to be the person I’m supposed to be.

My chin hairs doubled but they’re not ready to breed yet :’(

My knees got hairy?? I have scar tissue over areas of my knees and so when I noticed the hair growth was now covering them I was very surprised.

[NSFW] Your cum is gonna change smell and appearance. Your piss is gonna change smell. The first while it might be a bit of a PH balance issue (don’t try to treat it without a doctors assistance since you’re in a special case), but it’s gonna change. My personal scent went from a “potatoey” natural scent to a vaguely public restroom smell in a month (which worries me greatly cause that means I’ve been to bathrooms people jerked it in). It’s gonna be a bit uncomfortable getting used to your new biological functions smell, especially if you already had issues with them, but it’s for the better.

T-Shots CAN BE PAINLESS. I’m still learning how to do injections since I didn’t actually have a nurse to help me (HAHAHAHAHA THANK GOD FOR YOUTUBE FOR FUCKING CHRISTS SAKES HAHAHAHAHA), but I’ve had 1.5 shots so far that have been pretty painless. My first two shots hurt a lot (first time I panicked and did a LOT wrong, second I still goofed a bit), but my third time was so ungodly painful during injection because I had pulled the fat too far back but upon releasing there was NO muscular pain, just injection pain. I’ve just had a completely pain-free shot using a pull technique with my shot, but PLEASE NOTE: Fat deposits is a major thing to consider in this. The more fat in the area, the more it hurts. I’ve moved slightly upwards towards the top of my leg while still following requirements for the shot to be safe, and I’ve found a sweet spot where my muscle has almost no fat there. The longer you’re on T, the more fat should move from your legs and to your stomach (with a reasonable amount left behind), but trans bears are in for a bit of hell unless they find their own thing.

Protip to keep your muscle relaxed: Lay back in your bed with a pillow propped under your ankle of the injection leg, make sure you’re breathing the entire time, and do a steady push with the 60-90 degree recommendation I see everywhere. Do it with the needle angled towards your knees (handle towards your head), and it should help hurt less. 

You get a lil bit dumber. I’mma leave this vague, but like watch your impuslivity mates. Before engaging in risky behavior, always discuss with yourself pre-event to ensure you know what you’re willing to consent to, what you’re not, as well as always know if you can’t say yes to something with confidence then it’s a no. This is mostly written in regards to drunk and spontaneous sex (Always have a basic outline of what you consent to under most circumstances), but also like if you’re gonna go smoke weed with friends and someone brings out some harder stuff. Set this based upon your own personal ethics, beliefs, comfort, etc..

You get acne where you never had it before. WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A ZIT ON MY TRECHEA??? THE WORLD WILL NEVER KNOW.

If you have the Herpes virus ( both mouth and genital), it might break out more frequently and worse for a while due to hormone changes (this will balance out). Watching your diet and avoiding trigger foods, stress (hahahaha), and using proper treatment products at the first sign of an outbreak will help prevent them from happening or being too severe. Talk with your doctor about possible medication options during breakouts, as well as preventative ones. 

Your skin is gonna be fucking whack for a while. Have you ever had dry, acne-encrusted skin? I HAVE. My face was so dry after my second shot of T yet still covered in so much acne it was the weirdest shit ever. I’ve changed around my skin routine a bit (I literally just use a acne medicine I used during my first puberty and a new skin lotion when I notice dryness).

Your appetite might change. Make sure when starting testosterone you eat reasonably healthy, and make some life choices to ensure you don’t develop heart disease. I’ve begun eating vegetables at least once a week (considering I’d go months without them and eat starches in their place, this is revolutionary), and I’m still trying to properly dedicate myself to a work out routine.

Belly? It’s gonna look a different kind of fat. Mine suddenly looks wider and generally more protruding, and for me I enjoy this since I don’t wanna be a twink. AFAB’s tend to store body fat in hips, theighs, and butts, while men tend to store it in their stomachs and around their organs (meant to be burned quickly during fight or flight, but just causes heart disease now.) A good site covering this pretty effectively is: https://www.erchonia.com/how-men-and-women-store-fat-differently/ , but please note this is a company that offers lazer surgeries related to fat removal so it’s probably at least somewhat biased.

YOUR NEEDLES AND YOUR TESTOSTERONE HAVE DIFFERENT RX CODES GIVE YOUR PHARMACY ALL OF THEM.

 Laundry detergent bottles make great sharps containers (most needles come with lids, but please do this anyways since it is a biohazard).

Sometimes, your needles will be more expensive than your Testosterone. This is why WV has a fucking HIV crisis with heroine addicts right now :/

Also btw, shop pharmacies and use apps like WellRX for coupons, one pharmacy offered me T for 60$ but the other offered me it for like 120$. Check out pharmacies like in Walmart, Target, Costco, and others to see who has the cheapest available if you don’t have insurance or have to pay copays. [You can do this with all medications including Insulin]

If you’re nonvegan/vegetarian, just eat more chicken and less red meat, it’s got more protein and less grease, and will probably save your life in the long run. 

Workout! You’re bodys gonna be fucking weird for a while, and finding a healthy way to let out your emotions is a great way to cope with the hormonal feelings you’ll get, as well as it’ll help keep your heart healthy and maybe even prep you for surgery. If you’re disabled, find out what works for you.

[NSFW[ I personally use a very weighted sex toy for lifting, and a modified NerdFitnesses’ 20 minute workout routine. https://www.nerdfitness.com/blog/beginner-body-weight-workout-burn-fat-build-muscle/

Speaking of hormonal though, it’s gonna get real fucking ugly real fucking fast for a while. You’re gonna cry, scream, pout, panic, and then (assuming you are a sexual being) jerk off. It’s a mess for a hot while, mine started my second shot but it seems to be leveling out. Now I’m on my 3rd shot so I’ll find out when it’s too late if it’s any easier lol.

and finally:

Check out David Bowie’s “Changing”, they had it in Shrek but like apparently he did a version too and I’m hardcore kinning it right now.